Nirvana
by TurtleLover4
Summary: Donatello shares the tale of his life, and the events that left him and his brothers separated.


This story is based on a short comic by TMNT co-creator Peter Laird called "Old Times". The comic is based on future Donatello who is alone in Japan after the turn of the century. He is practicing and sparring with virtual reality life forms conjured up by his computer, Chet. He fights several of the Foot and finally Shredder. After beating his enemies, he thinks the workout is over, and is surprised to see a new image conjured up before him--four turtles--his three brothers and himself at age 15. Donatello breaks down, yelling at Chet to freeze the program and delete the lifeforms. He then tells Chet never to do that again, as tears form on his cheeks. That comic has always had me wondering. Why is Donatello alone? What happened to his brothers? And so, I created "Nirvana". This is only one idea of mine about what could have possibly led to Don's place in the futuristic comic. These are my opinions alone, and do not necessarily reflect the ideas of Kevin Eastman or Peter Laird. There are a few scenes in which I took flashbacks directly from the Mirage and Image comics. The rest I've conjured up on my own. So sit back, grab some munchies, and enjoy! 

  


## **Nirvana**

  


### **Prologue**

  


  
**Honda Province  
Japan, 2042**

The turtle took in a ragged breath and reached out his hand, his eyes fixed on the mask as it slipped from his fist onto the counter below. He turned his back on the giant patch of blinking circuits and wires lining the wall. His shoulders shook visibly as he fought to contain the overwhelming sorrow that had gripped him so suddenly. 

"Dammit Chet." His voice came as a whisper. 

He glanced around the room, watching as it slowly returned to normal once again. The lines and knots of the hardwood floor replaced what was moments ago the crumbling brick and concrete of a New York rooftop. He stared in silence as the bodies of dead Foot members, and Oroku Saki, the Shredder himself, began to fade and disappear. 

_An illusion...it was only an illusion._

The surrounding skyscrapers and cityscape transformed back into soft plaster walls once again, but still, the vision that he'd tried so hard to dissolve in his mind, the one that he'd feared to even look upon, had only moments ago been a reality. After all these decades, all these grueling years he'd struggled to forget, their faces had come back again to haunt him. 

Closing his eyes, he shuddered. Try as he might to push them away, they were there waiting for him, taunting him with their presence, refusing to leave him in peace. Knowing there was no escape, he rose his eyes to meet theirs one at a time, almost breaking under the strain of the young faces, their eyes so full of wonder and innocence. 

He stared at Leonardo, the strong, courageous eyes reflecting the discipline, the self control. 

_Leonardo...I miss you. You were aways so..._

He choked on the thought and tore his vision from him, unable to bear the past any longer. Instead, he looked to Raphael, stared into those black eyes of steel. The fire, the passion burned there, until he thought it would consume him. 

His sight traveled to Michaelangelo, his "little brother", and the tears began to well up again. He had been so free in life, so full of optimism and heart. An adventurous smile spread across his lips, reflecting his child-like innocence. 

This was the way he had always wanted to remember them. Unfortunately, the years had changed them all, for better or for worse, he still wasn't sure. 

Finally, he swallowed his fear and turned his gaze to the last pair of eyes, the ones he was most apprehensive to confront. The tears began to fall down his cheeks as the reflection of his youth stared back at him. It was as if he were gazing into a mirror that reflected only his past. But where wisdom of age had replaced the curiousity of youth, so did the fear of what he had become. 

He closed his eyes again, unable to bear the memories any longer. _Dammit, Chet, if only you hadn't brought them back..._ But he knew that it wasn't the computer's fault. Chet had only retracted the images that Don himself had created in his own mind. 
    
    ^^DONATELLO?^^

The turtle didn't answer. Instead, he gripped his bo so tightly his nuckles began to turn white, and then hurled it across the room. As he leaned his back against the wall with a sigh, hundreds of memories began to flood his mind at once. He closed his eyes again, begging them to leave, but they refused, and in fact, grew even stronger and multiplied until all he could think or feel or hear or smell was the past. 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER ONE**

  


  


_There will always be a place in my heart  
In my heart  
No matter what I do  
There will always be a place in my heart  
In my heart  
There's a place for you_

The roads that we travel  
Some of them near  
And some of them so far  
We each go our own way  
I cling to the past  
While you reach for the stars

Remember the old days  
Remember the crazy ways we used to be  
We were outcasts in the shadows  
Me reaching for you  
You reaching for me...

So wherever you may wander  
Wherever your restless heart decides to go  
No matter the distance  
Wherever you are  
I want you to know

There will always be a place in my heart  
In my heart  
No matter what you do  
There will always be a place in my heart  
In my heart  
There's a place for you

- Curtis Stigers, "There Will Always Be A Place" 

  


  
**_The truth of suffering..._**  
"'All life is suffering', my master used to say. 'We must cast away the earthly ties which bind us and come to accept the reality of our existence. Only then can we acknowledge what we truly are.' But just what _were_ we exactly? That was the question. 

I had pondered that idea on many an occasion. What are we? Turtles? Men? Are we in fact part human? Is it true that animals have no souls, no set pattern of morals or sense of self? I couldn't remember what it had been like to be an ordinary turtle. I had been one for such a short time in my life. I was an infant then, barely able to comprehend the world around me. But we did have souls after our mutation, of that I am sure. I guess by human's standards, that would make us more like them than like any primate or beast of the earth. But still, some of the basic animal instincts had stayed with us - the keen sense of smell, the urge to hunt..." Don smiled a little. "Heck, I'd even felt like pulling myself inside my shell from time to time when I felt threatened, especially if Raphael and Leonardo were duking it out again. Of course, through all my studying and experimenting on the subject, I've still to this day never gotten a clear, accurate answer. There are far too many things to factor in. 

Take Raph for instance...his animalistic urges could be so intense, it made him seem more ferocious than a lion at times. And then there was Mikey - cook, writer, babysitter...he was probably the most human of us all. Atleast...his emotions were the most honest..." 

Don sighed and stared out the window at the setting sun. The low clouds glowed pink above the bright orange disk, the grass blowing gently in the breeze. It was almost an exact picture of that last day in New York. As painful memories flooded his mind, he found himself closing his eyes in an attempt to push them back once again. But every time he tried, those faces would return to stare at him with their hollow eyes. 
    
    _^^DONATELLO? ARE YOU WELL?^^_

The voice came from the wall unit once again. 

Don ran a hand slowly over his head, as if trying to erase the images from it, and opened his eyes. "Yes, Chet. I'm fine." _I think..._ "Now, where was I?" 
    
    ^^YOU WERE SPEAKING OF YOUR EXISTENCE^^

"Oh, yes...well, there were the obvious things - we were ninjas, we were turtles, we were our master's adoptive sons. Then there were the attributes that went a little deeper, the ones that were hidden beneath the surface. 

Raphael was stubborn and pig-headed, and he frequently suffered from bouts of tormenting anger, but he also had a gentle side. It was an attribute that rarely came out, but over time, we had all come to know it was there. We never spoke of it outright, for fear that he'd clam up again, or get defensive, but I could see in their eyes that they realized it too. 

It was only at the truly horrific times that those steel walls would lower a bit and allow his true emotions to shine through. When one of us was severely wounded, especially Michaelangelo, his pain would become too great to conceal any longer. His sense of family and brotherhood was very strong, and the harsh realization that the five of us were all we had in this world had perhaps stricken him the hardest. There were several occasions when I saw him cry. Usually he'd try to hide it, and he thought he'd succeeded, but even after the tears had been wiped away, the anger and revenge that burned in his eyes always gave him away. Of course, Shadow and the other children had always been able to bring out that soft side too, though when we were around, he acted cool and distant so as not to arouse our suspicions. 

Michaelangelo, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. His feelings were an open book. There wasn't too much he hid from the rest of us. Perhaps it was because, unlike Raphael, he didn't feel threatened by his emotions. Mike always found satisfaction in the art of expression, where Raph's inner turmoils seemed to frighten him more than he was willing to admit. 

Mike always knew the right things to say and do to lift our spirits when we were down. There wasn't anything he couldn't make a joke out of. I'll admit, at times it could be really annoying, especially when he teased about important things, such as my research, but he always meant well. However, despite Mike's outward cheerfulness, inside, there was an underlying depression that became gradually more apparent as we aged. Because, try as he might to forget the hardships and to overlook that we were freaks in a world of hate, the fact still remained. 

I secretly looked up to Leonardo in many ways. Although I did not envy his position of authority, I had to admire his persistance and grace. He _was_ Splinter's favorite, try as he might to insist otherwise. We all knew it. I believe that's one of the reasons Raphael was always so indignant to his role as leader. There was a certain amount of jealousy there. After all, Raphael was just as skilled as Leonardo was in the martial arts, perhaps even more so. He only lacked the discipline and foresight. But those things were of utmost importance to Splinter. He said that focus and tranquility of mind were essential in order to master the art. 

But despite all of Leo's seriousness and strength, he did have his faults. He was too hard on himself, and there were times when self punishment and his strife for perfection almost drove him straight into the ground. His relentless determination matched only Raphael's, rendering him just as stubborn and ornery at times. They really were a lot more alike than any of us bothered to point out." 

Donatello paused to pour himself a glass of water. All this talking was making his throat dry. There was a long silence as he drank slowly, remembering the years of his life one by one, almost as if seeing it all again for the first time, through someone else's eyes. 
    
    ^^AND WHAT OF YOU, DONATELLO?^^

The turtle smiled bitterly. "Me? Well, Chet...maybe I should just start from the beginning..." 

  


* * *

  
"The year was 1984. We were thirteen then, and everything around us was new and exciting. It was one of the few times we had ventured out into the world above, Splinter being the sheltering father that he was. In the thirteen years we had been alive, we hadn't even experienced much of life itself yet. We had no idea what wonders and horrors the outside world contained. 

We had spent our lives in the seclusion and secrecy of the sewers, and knowing nothing else, had come to accept that as our home. We knew we were different. We had watched a lot of television and read a lot of books. We weren't human like the rest of the vigilant world. We were freaks of nature. Master Splinter gave us that speech of his often. 'The outside world would reject us.' I used to think it was his way of instilling fear in us so we would behave. Little did I know then the horrors that awaited us, just because we were different. Still, we held a certain hope for the future, that some day we could venture above freely, and a wondrous world would be waiting for us. 

Finally, the day came when our wish would come to fruition, or so we first thought. We had been above before, always at night, and always in secrecy and disguise, but our trips had been minimal and short, and only on special occasions, like the time we were twelve and Splinter had taken us to see the fireworks on the Fourth of July. But this was something different. We were alone now with nothing to protect us but the skills he'd taught us." 
    
    ^^AND HOW DID YOUR MASTER INSTILL THESE SKILLS?^^

Don sighed and tapped his chin in thought, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips. "Master Splinter was a very resourceful rat. He grew up here, in Japan as a pet. His master, Hamato Yoshi, a great warrior, taught him the ways of ninja. He was a part of the Foot before he was killed. Splinter was very adept at mimicking his master's movements, and Yoshi seemed to enjoy watching him. After his mutation, Splinter's intelligence grew to new heights, and he began to teach us everything he knew. 

Communication was difficult at first, as Splinter only knew the language of the rats, and my brothers and I hardly knew any speech yet at all. After spending many hours in front of an old rundown television set he'd found, he began to slowly train his vocal chords and speech patterns to mimick the human language. It was a long, slow process, and one that required much determination and concentration. 

He started with Japanese, teaching us the limited vocabulary he could remember from his master Yoshi, and then, after we'd mastered enough to be able to communicate our needs and wishes, we began to learn English, the language of America. 

Survival was very tough in the first few years. The New York winters were cold and wet. Being turtles, our bodies weren't designed for the harsh weather. It made us slow and sluggish, and at times we became so weak we thought we wouldn't make it to see another summer. Hibernation was a problem as well. Splinter was worried that if an emergency arose, he would have trouble waking us to get us to safety. When I was ten however, I figured out a way to keep our body temperatures from dropping so rapidly. With some spare parts Splinter had scavanged, I transformed the scarce overhead lights, and a couple of old lanterns into heat lamps. Splinter also helped us build a fire pit in the center of the bedroom area. It was small so as not to catch anything on fire as we slept, but the heat it exuded allowed us to live comfortably until spring arrived. 

The dampness and filth brought on other problems as well. Before we figured out a decent means of insulation, our sewer lair was literally bombarded with a continuous foul stench, which made sleeping, eating and other daily activities difficult at times. And with the dirt and smell came decay and disease. It was a constant concern of Splinter's that we remain healthy and happy. Luckily for us, the mutation did increase our immunities by about fifty percent, and even though we had ailments from time to time, we managed to stay clear from severe health problems. 

Food was scarce as well. Splinter ventured out almost nightly, scavanging whatever he could find from dumpsters and trash bins, but most of it turned out to be stale or spoiled. Many nights, we were sent to bed hungry and grumpy, and there were times when days would pass between meals. Splinter was great though. He never ceased to prove self-sacrificing. I remember many times when he'd allowed himself to go hungry just to be sure we had enough. 

Our furnishings were also sub-standard. After years of collection, we'd managed to muster up a ratty old couch, another broken television that I fixed up and got into working order, a couple of lamps, and some old matresses and futons on which to sleep. One day, Raph found an old broken reclining chair by the gutter that we fixed up as best we could for Splinter. Mike patched up the holes and tears with colorful swatches of fabric, Leo decorated it with the most comfortable cushion he could find, and I worked on it night and day for a week until it swiveled and reclined again. We saved it in another part of the sewer and surprised him with it on his birthday. He loved it. I think we almost made him cry." 

Don stopped for a moment and smiled, wiping the tears that had escaped from his own eyes. 
    
    _^^IT SOUNDS AS THOUGH YOU HAD A DIFFICULT CHILDHOOD^^_

"Difficult...at times, yeah. But even though we didn't have much, that way of life was all we had ever really known. Most of the time, despite the hardships, we were happy and content. We had eachother, and a master who loved us and taught us many interesting things. He was our teacher, our father and our sensei. I don't know what we would have done in those beginning years without him. Those were the happy times, Chet. We hadn't ever known what _true_ sorrow and loss really were. But that first night alone, above the streets - that's when it all began to change..." 

  


********

  
Don tore the printout loose and stared at it for a moment, scanning the list for the appropriate file. "Chet, start VR Holo program." 
    
    ^^ACCESSING...HOLO PROGRAM INITIATED^^

"Pull up written log 1142." 
    
    ^^DOWNLOADING...OBJECTIVE COMPLETE. LOADING VIRTUAL LIFE FORMS...^^

"I was the last to leave that dreary place," Don spoke again as the computer's processor sparked to life. "And as I wandered around helplessly, gathering up my few belongings, I'd forced myself to search the other rooms, to take whatever I could salvage as a rememberance. Leo and Mike had both kept a journal. Raph hadn't kept anything of the sort, but he did have that old camcorder Casey had given him so long ago. There was a small stack of video tapes beneath his bed, and despite the warning signs that went off in my head, I took those too. I didn't read much of the journals, only a couple of pages here and there. It was all too heartbreaking for me. So that's when I programed the contents into you instead, Chet. Do you still have everything separated into individual files? 
    
    ^^SEVENTEEN THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED AND TWELVE FILES TO BE EXACT^^

Don couldn't help but smile. This computer he'd built of his own accord had turned out to be his greatest accomplishment. Not only had Chet kept him company all these years, but it was intelligent and extremely helpful as well. It's attention to detail seemed to surpass even his own. 

Suddenly, the room began to change and the walls around him took on an eery blue glow. Donatello took a step back and closed his eyes for a moment as the images reappeared one by one before him. His brothers and himself as children, barely in their teenage years, now occupied the room. They stood facing him, their backs only a few feet from a computer generated brick wall, so clear in every detail, it was as if he was experiencing it all over again. The turtles were tense with anticipation, their faces taught and serious, their weapons drawn in challenge. 

Don swallowed hard as he began to relive the events of his life. As the images continued to load, the accuracy of the scene around him transported him back through time, and he was once again the Donatello of his youth, full of vigor and wonder, so naive and vulnerable. 

Leo's voice broke the silence, and Don couldn't help but jump in surprise. _"We made a wrong turn somewhere..."_ It was undeniably his brother. He could never forget that voice. 

"Chet...how did you do that?" 
    
    ^^I HAVE BEEN PROGRAMMED WITH A MICROCHIP THAT--^^

"No...no...I mean, how did you replicate his voice? How did you know...?" 
    
    ^^THE SPEECH PATTERN DEPICTED WAS DOWNLOADED FROM LOG 4492--^^

Don scanned the printout again, finally spotting the file in question. "Ahhh...yes...Raph's videos..." He stared at Leonardo for a moment, lost in the sound of his voice, the majesty of his presence. He was so real. For a moment he wondered if he could transport himself back there again by simply reaching out and touching him. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Chet. "Continue." 

Leo sprang to life again. Don watched in nervous anticipation as he and his brothers backed themselves up against the wall. They were cornered, and the Purple Dragon Gang was closing in. Don was amazed at the capability of this Artificial Intelligence software package he'd purchased. Everything was so clear and accurate. He could actually smell the stench from the nearby trash dumpter and feel the chill night air on his face, taking him back to that exact moment in history. 

_"We made a wrong turn somewhere..."_ Leo's voice started again. _"We were caught with our backs to the wall in a trash-strewn alley. Barring the way were fifteen members of the Purple Dragon Gang. We knew the only way they'd let us out of there is if we were dead."_

Don remembered that night like it was yesterday. And although he knew everything that would transpire in the next fifteen minutes, he couldn't help but feel his muscles tightening in anticipation. 

_"I held my katana in a relaxed ready position. To my left, Donatello and Michaelangelo followed suit with staff and nunchaku."_

He glanced at Michaelangelo, at the naive excitement in the brown eyes, and he almost cried at the memory. _What happened to you, Mike? Why did things have to end so badly?_ He lowered his head and took in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Then, mustering his courage, he stared up into his own youthful face, and as their eyes met, he felt the fear return... 

_"Raphael guarded my right...I could sense his body quivering with tense energy, waiting to be triggered into savage, slashing release! They thought we were wearing costumes. They were wrong."_

Don watched as both parties began to attack. Raph broke into a firey ball of intesity, his punches and kicks unwavering beneath the yellow light of the streetlamp. Leo moved swiftly, almost silently, his motions fluid and calm, while Mike used speed and force to keep his enemies at bay. He watched himself, could see that look of terror well up in his eyes, and the fear gripped him. For now, he knew what the future held. He could predict the outcome this single night would have on the rest of their lives. 

_"These guys were young, but no rookies. They were toughened by the streets. They had fought and beat everything on two legs in this area...except us. The punks didn't waste much time on hand-to-hand. They broke into small groups and opened up with their artillery! Raphael loves this stuff. There was a quick flash as his sais came out. The three thugs didn't even see that..."_

Don watched in horror as his brother drove the sai into flesh, literally shredding his enemies to pieces. 

_"Who are these guys--?"_ One of the thugs was speaking now. 

_"Don't know..."_ said another. _"Some kinda freaks! But even freaks can bleed! Cut 'em!"_

_"Yes, we did bleed..."_ Leo admitted. _"And so did they!"_

Raph dove another sai into a chest. A spine chilling crack could be heard as Mike's nunchaku made contact with bone, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Don watched himself, moving the bo staff swiftly in defense, but he'd managed to inflict more damage than was inteneded. The fight continued, and in a matter of minutes, the rest of their foes were vanquished. 

_"Our first major skirmish was over and we were still standing. Our training had served us well...Splinter would be pleased. The police arrived to find only what was left of the Purple Dragon Gang. We do not like to run from those who would be our allies, but they would not understand us..."_

"Chet, freeze program..." 

As the scene around him came to a chilling hault, he couldn't help but remember the remorse and guilt that had gripped him after the battle. He'd killed someone. It was something he never thought he'd actually do. And even though Splinter had commended them for a job well done, he couldn't shake the feeling that it had all been wrong. 

"I've killed a lot of people since then." Don sighed. "But that moment has always stuck with me. I've never liked hurting people, Chet, but for the first time that night, it was something I realized I had to do in order to survive." 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER TWO**

  


  


_There are times  
When I'm just a shell  
Where I do not feel  
Anything for anyone  
All I feel  
Is hollow and bruised  
Used up and misused  
Forced to be someone  
I don't want to be _

Have I failed  
Somehow or someway  
Will the weight of today  
Finally pull me down to drown  
In the depths of despair  
Where I am alone  
Except for my rage? 

My rage  
My pain 

I hate my darkest days 

-"Darkest Days", Stabbing Westward 

  


  
**_The cause of suffering..._**  
"We all had needs, of course. That is a simple fact of life. Everyone longs for material happiness and the fulfillment of their wishes and desires. It's only natural. Even Leo, with his calm, controlled demeanor was known to wallow in self-pity, and there were times when his overzealousness took control. He was so concerned with perfection and the way others perceived him, that he was often times blinded by his quest for approval and self-worth. I was certainly no exception. In my childish ignorance, I had plenty of desires of my own. I had this nagging, unrelenting need to discover who we were, why we were here, what made the world go around. And in my quest for answers, I at times became obsessed with the idea of recognition and praise. If I could only figure out how it worked, and why, then maybe I would be accepted in the world of humans. Maybe I would win some prized reward for my efforts, become famous. Perhaps we would no longer have to live in seclusion and hiding. Maybe I could make this world better for us all. 

As for Mike...well, he was the dreamer of the family. Every minor success was another reason to be happy. Joy came easy for him. He only had to follow his senses. He was fascinated by everything around him - the sites, sounds, smells, tastes. His love for food introduced him to the art of cooking. Good thing too. He was the only one of us who knew how to prepare a decent meal. Soon his creativity soared to new heights, and he took up drawing and writing. He was great at those things. He could express himself on paper like none other I've ever seen. His biggest downfall, however, was his aversion to pain. He often times refused to allow himself to experience anguish or sorrow. But when he did, those feelings came out full force. Mike was the most emotional of us all, and as a result, he did his best to cover up the negativity and fill himself with positive energy. It was only a matter of time however, before all of that emotional stuffing began to ooze out and come to the surface." 

Donatello wiped the moisture from his eyes and stared out the window, studying the many bright pinpoints of light that dotted the darkened horizon. And for a brief moment, he wondered if they were up there somewhere, shedding their light and memories down on him. 

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "living beings do indeed have needs and wishes. How far we let those desires take us, however, is another matter entirely... 

********

"Chet, increase texture mapping by fifty percent." 

As the computer accessed the extra graphics from the VR program, the scene sparked to life around him. Donatello suddenly found himself in the basement of April's apartment building, fifty-eight years previous. It was stunningly realistic in every detail, from the boxes of junk they had brought from their destroyed lair, to the humongous spider web that decorated the northeast corner. He stared from the cracked concrete walls to the staircase that led up to the world outside, then to his brothers who began to appear like ghosts before his very eyes. 

As he examined the shadowy form of Raphael, he remembered how his brother could lose his temper at the drop of a hat. 

"Raphael was different from the rest of us. There was something inside of him that just refused to let any of us get too close. Try as we might, with all of our strength and power, we could not knock down those steel walls. In fact, most of the time, we didn't even seem to put a dent in them. 

He was so intense, he sometimes didn't realize what he was doing until it was too late, and he ended up hurting those he cared most about." 

He wasn't sure he wanted to see this again, but he knew he needed to. It was the only way to put it past him. 

"We lived here for several months." He was speaking more to himself than to Chet. "It wasn't much to look at, but it was a place we could call home until we found Splinter. He'd been missing for several weeks by this time, and we were all worried sick. I was beginning to think we'd never see him again. When we'd arrived back at the lair that evening, we found it in shambles. Splinter wasn't anywhere to be found, but his walking stick was laying in a pool of blood, cracked and broken. Baxter's mousers had gotten to him. We'd spent all day helping April defeat that mad scientist. And now it looked as though our heroism had a price." 

Donatello closed his eyes and swallowed. "I'm only glad that the Utroms found him. It's ironic that the very aliens who turned us into the freaks we are, and changed the very scope of our lives forever, were also the ones who were determined to save them." 

He sucked in a slow, shaky breath, and tried to focus on soothing thoughts. His nerves had been on edge ever since his brothers first appeared before him like ghosts early this morning. Looking back on the past had proven to be more painful than he'd imagined. It was no wonder he'd kept it bottled up and pushed to the back of his mind for so long. 

He opened his eyes again and stared at the artificial room that enclosed him. Boxes of clutter and old appliances had been pushed aside to make room for a large training area in the center of the floor. Luckily, no one lived below them. It could get quite noisy. He stared at himself and his brothers, who were standing there like statues frozen in time. It was as if they were hanging on his every word, anxiously awaiting his command. With a deep breath, he said calmly, "Begin." 

_"That--that was a LUCKY PUNCH, Mike!"_ The familiar sound of Raphael's voice flooded the room, sending a shiver down Donatello's spine. He watched as the determined turtle sprang into action, his fist making contact with Mike's chin. _"You think you're so good--"_

_"Raph..."_ As Michaelangelo spoke this familiar plea of protest, Donatello's focus suddenly became disconnected from the scene around him, and violent images began to flash through his mind. He saw a shiny metal chain connecting two thick wooden sticks, swinging wildy against a black sky, a trenchcoat flapping madly in the wind, a pair of angry eyes, glossy from fresh tears, a sickening pool of thick red blood... 

Swallowing, he fought to rid himself of the images, and instead concentrated on the events that were unfolding before him. Raphael was advancing again. There would be no stopping him until the fight was over. He was determined to win. 

_"Ooof!"_ Mike doubled over as Raph's fist made contact with his chest plate. 

Mischief filled Raphael's features. _"But you can't beat me!"_ Another punch, this time bruising Mike's cheek. _"Not now...not EVER!"_

Don's heart began to race as he watched Raphael charge again, remembering this moment as if it had only been yesterday. This time Mike was ready for him. As Raph made contact, Mike grabbed him by the arms and tossed him over his shoulders. 

_"Oh really? You're too cocky, Raph!"_ He watched as his brother crashed into an old endtable, splintering it in two, and breaking a lamp. _"Pride goeth before a fall, buddy...!"_ Mike grinned in satisfaction. He was obviously enjoying this. 

Raphael got up quickly, anger and frustration burning brightly in his eyes now. It was clear that play time was over. _"Arr...Grrr!"_ He let out a growl and moved toward Michaelangelo. "_NO!!"_

The terror welled up in Donatello as he watched Raphael advance yet again. He could hear the blood pounding in his head, feel the sweat beading on his palms. As he stared into those dark, cold eyes, he knew what was about to happen, and it still haunted him. If only he'd been more careful. If only he'd put his tools away after fixing that water pipe. 

Raphael glanced around the room, searching for a weapon, anything he could use to win and show Mike he was the better ninja. His eyes seemed to glow with an eery brightness as he picked up one of Don's old rusty wrenches. 

_"NO--",_ he protested again. _"Y--you--CHEATED!"_

Don's younger self was standing with Leo, a safe distance away from the brawl, trying to piece together some of their things. _"We've got to sound-proof this cellar."_ He heard himself say. His voice sounded so young, so naive. He hadn't been too worried about their sparring match at the time. He'd seen Raphael and Michaelangelo go at it before. If only he'd realized then what Raphael was capable of... 

_"Yeah..."_ Leo watched them apprehensively. _"I'd better quiet those guys down before--Hey!"_

Something shiny had caught Leo's eye, and now Don spotted it too. Raph was gripping something metal, and by the looks of it, he was planning on hitting Michaelangelo with it. Leo rushed forward, determined to stop the derrainged turtle before he did anything foolish. 

_"You didn't BEAT ME!!!"_ Raphael swung the wrench, just missing Mike's head. Luckily, Mike ducked it into his shell just in time. 

_"Hey, Raph--cool it!"_ Mike's eyes were filled with wonder and disbelief. _"It's just practice!"_ He blocked the attack and stepped back quickly, preparing himself for what may come next. Raph lifted his hand again for another attack, and was just about to strike when something grabbed his shoulder. 

_"Raphael, don't!"_ The turtle glanced up, startled, and suddenly snapped back to reality as his eyes met with Leo's. _"What do you think YOU'RE DOING!!?"_

Suddenly, the wrench was snatched from his grasp. He turned to face Leo, to stare into those condeming eyes. _"Raphael--HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"_

The anger in Raphael's eyes dissapeared, only to be replaced with guilt and the fear of what he'd almost done. He took a step back, his expression apologetic. _"I--Leo--Mike--I--"_

Leonardo held up the wrench. _"You could have KILLED Mike if you'd hit him with this! RAPHAEL, we're ALL tense--Splinter's gone, we're living in a strange new place--but you can't fly off the handle like that!"_

Raphael, terrified by his own actions, was rendered speechless. 

_"Now GET OUT OF HERE AND COOL OFF!"_

Raph searched for an explaination that would redeem his actions, but he found none. _"Leo--I--I--"_

_"GO!"_

There was nothing left to say. He'd lost it, and he knew it. There was no excuse for what he'd done. Raphael fled up the stairs and burst through the old wood door with a loud crack. A gust of cold wind poured into the room, chilling Don to the bone. An empty silence followed. 

_"Leo..."_ Mike's face was filled with terror. _"Did you see his eyes?"_

"Chet..." Donatello had seen enough. "Freeze program." 

The scene suddenly became chillingly still once again. As he stared at their solid, frozen forms, it reminded him of death, and a chill went up his spine. He glanced at the expressions on their faces, their eyes filled with terror and surprise. He remembered the guilt that had ensued after Raphael left and his own panicked nerves had calmed down. 

"It was my fault." He told Chet. 

The computer voice sprang to life. 
    
    ^^DONATELLO, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND...^^

"It was my wrench." He said softly, the regret gripping him again, even after all this time. "If only I hadn't been so careless." 

Don was silent for a while, then he said softly, "The truth of it was, we were lucky. Raphael _didn't_ hit Mike with the wrench. Leo stopped him on time. But, despite his hard exterior, Raphael had a hard time controlling his emotions. There was something inside of him that was wild and untame. This rage and unrelentless anger scared him sometimes, and that made him lash out even more. 

His romp into the night wasn't without it's benefits, however. It won us a strong ally--Casey Jones." 

Donatello smiled fondly as he thought about his old human friend. "Casey was a real tough guy, a regular vigilante. Raphael found him in the park, trying to beat the snot out of a couple of car stereo thieves. They were only kids. Raph was determined to stop this guy before he did more damage than good. 

But through that rough outer appearance, Casey had a good heart, like Raphael. He was the only one Raphael had ever come into contact with whose personality almost exactly reflected his own. And in him, he saw his anger, his energy, his ability to over-react, and he realized how dangerous it could really be. It had taught Raph a lesson, and from then on, he tried not to be so intense. Of course, he didn't always succeed." 

********

"Looking back now, I can relate to his pain and anger. I believe we all felt it to a certain degree, we just had distinct ways of dealing with it. He hated being different, living a life of seclusion in the dark, disease infested sewers. He despised the humans for forcing us to exist that way, when we had just as much right to survive as they did. He felt as though he was trapped, like his sense of self expression and worth were being suffocated under society's ideals. The fact that his fleshly needs would almost certainly go unsatisfied was a grim reminder of how different we really were. For a long while, April was really the only woman we knew. But aside from her aliance, she had her own life to live as well. And over time, we came to think of her as more of a sister than anything else. Besides, she had Casey. 

Raphael hated to be confined. He had too much raw energy and deep-rooted will. He needed open space, freedom to think and do as he pleased. That's not to say he didn't need us. His temper and inability to cope proved that he would find it hard to make it on his own. But he needed his privacy as well, a chance to explore the world, to get to know himself. 

Leonardo understood the passion that drove Raphael. He knew what it was like to want something that was so out of reach. But he realized that the world was not a safe place for mutants and those who were considered different. And, keeping with Splinter's teachings, he also believed that we should be happy with what life gave us, and not go after things we were never meant to have. He forbade Raph to wander off too far alone, but quite frequently, his warnings were ignored. Raphael was determined not to let anyone be the boss over him. He lived for danger and excitement. Master Splinter was the only one who could even begin to convince him that he needed to be careful. He was the only one Raphael truly respected and honored. We knew that Master Splinter was much wiser than ourselves, and he only wanted what was best for us. Even at that, a simple discussion occasionally developed into an argument, and softly spoken words of warning sometimes led to harsh disagreements before the conversation was over. 

When it came to Leo, those acrimonious words sometimes turned to violence. Raphael felt as though Leo didn't understand him, not because he couldn't relate, but becase he didn't _want_ to. He decided long ago that Leo was too caught up in his own little fantasy of perfection and honor to see the big picture. He felt as though he was blinded by his ideals of what he saw as the perfect lives for us, and thus couldn't see the urgency of what was going on around him, or perhaps refused to accept it. They were like two positively charged ions, so much alike that they constantly drove one another away. I remember one conversation, many winters ago, very well..." 

********

_"Leo's lost it..." _

Raphael had been going on for twenty minutes already about the fact that their refuge in Casey's old farmhouse was completely useless and insane. He thought they should have headed back to New York a long time ago. He was growing homesick, and he was becoming angry at the gnawing idea that they were hiding from their enemies. "He's scared. He can no longer lead us." 

The door slammed open suddenly, and a gust of chilly wind poured in, sending Don's papers skattering across the floor. "What?!!" Raphael glanced up angrily, to stare at the shadowed figure in the doorway. "What's the problem, Raph?" 

"You heard me!" Raphael snapped. "You're the problem...Leo. This sucks...I hate feeling this way! You know we have to go back...We're dying here, rotting from the inside out, and it's your fault! We wait and wait...and yet you do NOTHING! If you won't do the right thing--I will!" Raphael pushed Leo out of his way with a hard shove, and headed toward the doorway. 

"But Leo stopped him. He always insisted that we do everything as a team. If one of us strayed, it would jeopardize our entire clan. It angered Raphael that Leonardo was so set in his ways. But we all knew that Leo had his reasons." 

_"Oh man...you make me SICK!" Raphael turned, even more angered then before, and shoved the katana away from him. In fury, he turned to Leo, his eyes burning into him as he brought his face closer, their beaks almost touching. "Wake up and smell the roses, big boy, this ain't no dude ranch, or rehab clinic for down and out ninjas. We're hiding out here!" As he thought about that for a moment, he decided it wasn't entirely true. "No...YOU'RE hiding out here...scared to face facts." He drove a firm, accusing finger into Leo's plastron. "...and you're dragging us all down with you!" Another poke, as if to emphasize his point. "Fun and games are over chump. Look at yourself! You are a coward. I'm going back...alone." _

He turned to leave, but before he could even journey a couple of steps, Leonardo leapt into the air above Raphael's head and landed directly in his path. With anger in his eyes, he lowered the katana, gripping it with both hands, and held it across Raphael's plastron, barring him from leaving. "I said no." 

Raphael glared down at the katana, then rose his eyes to meet Leo's. "Mistake." he said bitterly. 

"A fight ensued. It was difficult to keep track of who had the upper hand. Both were determined to subdue the other. Raphael's fists and feet were flying with punches and kicks, most of which Leo ducked. But finally, a powerful punch to Raphael's jaw sent him sprawling backward on the floor." 

_"You were always good, Leo...one of the best..." Raphael mumbled, rubbing his burning jaw. "which makes life here even more of a crime." Slowly, he rose to his feet again, ready to take Leo on. "You owe us, man..."_

Donatello shook his head. "Good ol' Raphael. Always the accuser, never seeing the big picture Leo was trying to paint for us." 

He moved to the window again to stare at the placement of the stars and moon. Night time was always so beautiful. It reminded him of years gone by, of hours spent romping and playing on the darkened rooftops above empty, deserted streets. It was getting late. In a few hours, it would be morning. But he knew he would never be able to sleep. 

"They were both so stubborn." he mumbled. "Damn them...why couldn't they just _try_ to understand one another?" 

_After a drawn out fight, Leonardo had the upper hand. He stood behind Raphael, his arms wrapped tightly around the turtle's neck. "You're NOT leaving--do you hear me?!" _

But Raphael still refused to give up. Struggling to breathe, he reached his arms back, swinging wildly, and made contact with Leo's face. The surprise and force knocked Leo away, giving Raphael just enough time to break free. 

Still stunned from the blow, Leonardo was caught unaware as Raphael lifted him up over his head with almost super-human strength, and hurled him across the room. 

A bone curdling crack pierced the air as Leonardo crashed right through the wooden wall. A soft groan escaped him before he was rendered silent and motionless. 

Horrified, Donatello rushed toward the rubble. "Leo!!" 

Michaelangelo was astounded by his brother's actions, and a little afraid of what he might do next, but he knew it would be bad if he let Raphael leave. "Raph, wait...!" 

"Don't even THINK about it, Mike!" 

"I couldn't believe what Raphael had done. He'd been mad plenty of times before, especially at Leo, but he'd never done anything like this. I was horrified at the ease with which he displayed his violent tendencies. I vowed to myself that I would never be like that. No matter what enemy we faced, or how tense things became between me and my brothers, I would never choose violence over a peaceful compromise. 

With some rest and bandages, Leonardo was fine in no time, but that picture of his still form lying in the rubble, the glint in Raph's eyes, still burns freshly in my mind. It's something I'll never forget." 

  


* * *

  
"Lucindra was excellent at hand-to-hand...one of the best we'd come across, in fact. Her medium was street fighting, but she had the skills of a well trained martial artist, and the physique and concentration to match. She wasn't a small or frail woman by any means. She stood at least a good head taller than the rest of us, and she was built solid. That's not to say she wasn't attractive. Her finely toned musculature and chiseled face rewarded her with a unique beauty. 

Raphael had been distant as of late. He was going through one of his dreaded 'loner' phases again. He decided he needed a change, some time away from us. He found her in the newspaper. There was an ad for a sparring partner. It intrigued him, and, possessing a craving for danger, he decided to call. He was even more surprised when the voice that answered was female. That was the last thing he expected. They'd talked for a while. She told him about her weight training, her life in the projects, all of the self defense classes she had taken. He told her about Master Splinter and about his ninja skills, and despite all of Leo's previous warnings, he told her he was a Ninja Turtle. 

She'd been pretty surprised about that. At first, she thought he might be part of some strange religious group, but after much explaining, she came to realize he wasn't joking around. The first night they'd met in that deserted alleyway proved to be a moment of discovery for them both." 

********

_She gathered the coat tighter around her body, blocking out the chill wind. Wrinkling her forehead, she stared with wonder at the sillhouette of a squatty figure slowly approaching. It was hard to tell anything from this distance. The heavy disguise only helped shadow the person under the moonless night. All she could make out was the tan fedora, which was matched by a long trenchcoat that billowed about at the figure's ankles. Something resembling a tote bag hung from it's left shoulder. It continued to walk slowly toward her, stopping only when it reached the outer limits of the bright yellow light that poured dimly from a crooked streetlamp. She stood there in silence, quietly summing him up, deciding she could take him if necessary. _

"Lucindra?" 

She stared at the man skeptically. It did_ sound like the voice she spoke to on the phone, but she wanted to be sure. Growing up on the streets had taught her some things about caution. "Raphael?" _

He took a step toward her, allowing the light to shine down on the brim of the hat, his intense eyes glowing brightly up at her from its shadows. "Call me Raph." 

A small smile twisted her mouth. "So, you really a turtle, Raff?" 

She could see his grin illuminate the darkness, showing off two wide rows of white teeth. "You really wanna know?" 

She folded her arms across her chest. "Check it, kay? I'm not afraid of you, so spill it." 

His grin widened. He was already starting to like this girl. "Fine then. You ready to get your butt kicked?" 

"By you?" She laughed. How could such a small little man be so cocky? 

Without another word, Raphael pulled the bag from his shoulder, and tossed it to the side. The hat and coat quickly followed. As he stepped into the exposure of the streetlamp, the yellow light flooded over him, revealing the green skin, toned biceps, and the crimson mask, which was the only thing that covered the reptilian face and shadowed the intensity of his soulfull gray eyes. 

Lucindra was silent for a moment. She had prepared herself for this, but she hadn't really believed it would be true. She was standing before a real live turtle - one that could stand upright and talk. And if his muscles said anything for his fighting style, she might be in for a little competition afterall. 

He stood there for a long moment, unmoving except for his eyes, which scanned the length of her. He stared first at her face, slightly wary of him, but it had an underlying kindness and confidence that was unmistakable. Her long black hair was pulled back from her face into a neat ponytail, emphasizing her dark eyes as they stared back at him. They lingered on his face for a while, and then slowly moved downward to study the muscles of his arms and legs. She was scrutinizing him, and he liked it. 

As she took off her coat, he let his sight fall to her newly bared shoulder, which was covered only by a thin strap of green material, showing off the size of her biceps. She was well built. She had the looks of a real fighter. This intrigued him even more. For a brief moment, his eyes traveled inward to stare at the way her body curved under the tight, midriff tanktop, leaving little to the imagination. She wore a thick thread around her neck, from which hung a rounded piece of leather that bore the symbol of Africa. She was obviously proud of her heritage. 

Under the toned muscles of her stomach, the shape of the rest of her body was well defined. A pair of tight leggings showed off every curve and muscle. When he'd first thought about fighting a woman, he thought it would be easy, but now her looks alone were beginning to prove him wrong. 

Raphael reached into his bag and pulled out a sparring chest pad. He hated wearing these things. He felt like it indicated weakness. But he had to be careful. If Lucindra did_ prove to be a worthy opponent, there was a good chance he could get scraped up, and he didn't want Leo or any of the rest of his family to know he'd been fighting. _

He glanced up at her, a mischevious grin spreading across his face. She smiled back, the confidence in her eyes shining even brighter than before. Raphael took a step back, sliding into a ready, defensive stance. 

"Go ahead. Take your best shot." 

Lucindra smirked at him and repositioned her weight. "You sure, Raff? Cuz I don't wanna hurt you or nothin'." 

Raph grinned again. "You? Hurt me?" 

"Well, you are_ a turtle, y'know..." _

"Oh?" He glared up at her. "And just what is that_ supposed to mean?" _

"Oh, nothing," she smiled. "Just...this!" 

She sent a punch flying toward Raphael, and he ducked out of the way just on time, catching her by the elbow and sending her over his shoulder. She hit the ground hard, but was sitting up in a matter of seconds. 

"Woah, Raff, you got some rill dope moves! I like the way you fight." 

Raphael smirked at her and offered her his hand. "You tried to catch me off guard, but I was ready for you. I'm always ready." 

They continued to spar late into the night. Both fought equally well, but Raphael had grown over confident after his early victory, which gave Lucindra the edge she needed. Several hours and many bruises later, they'd decided to call it quits. Lucindra had gone down once. Raphael had fallen twice. 

"He lost that night. It was a close fight, but he had still been beaten. Defeat wasn't something he was used to. And having been beaten by a woman had really bruised his ego. What made it worse was that she wasn't even ninja. 

He didn't tell any of us about Lucindra, but somehow, we all knew. He began to disappear a lot, always at night, and soon it became three nights a week or more. He'd be gone for hours at a time, without even so much as an explaination. He came home exhausted, smelling of sweat and sewage, and he was unusually distant, even for Raphael. If one of us tried to talk to him about it, he'd clam up, mumble something about being tired, and head for the shower. Afterwards, he locked himself up in his room for the night. I could tell Leo was worried about him. He hardly ever showed up for practice anymore, and when he did, we could tell his heart just wasn't in it." 

********

"As the nights went on, they began to see eachother more and more frequently. Each time, Raphael would pump himself up, give it his all, and each time, Lucindra ended up the victor. 

Leonardo began to get on his case, reminding him that we were a team, and that we needed to practice as such. But Leo's speeches only seemed to drive him farther away. I remember one night, he came home clearly upset. Instead of heading off to be alone, he lingered near us, almost as if he was asking us to question him. Mike had just brought home some fresh baked pizza, but Raphael seemed uninterested. 

_'You okay?'_ I asked him. _'You love pepperoni.'_

He was on edge. _'I lost a fight Don.'_ I don't think I had ever heard those words come out of his mouth before. But there was something else, something that clearly shamed him to talk about. _'To a girl.'_

_'Oh.'_ I wasn't quite sure what to say, but something inside of me found it quite humorous. _'Got beat by a girl? Ha, you've lost your edge. She ninja at least? What's she like? Can you tell us her name? Please?'_

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me defiantly. _'No.'_

_'C'mon, Raph. Can we meet her??'_

_'My mistake.'_ He grumbled and turned to leave, but before he had the chance, another voice rang out, and he stood frozen in place. 

_'Yes. Please do tell us...'_ It was Splinter. 

Raph turned quickly to face him. _'No, Splinter. Not now...'_

But Splinter made him talk. Raphael was very apprehensive to tell us much about this girl at all. It seemed as though he was trying to protect her somehow, or maybe it was more that he was trying to keep his private life secret. None of us could really blame him for that. Most of us didn't even _have_ a private life. 

In some way, he seemed to relate to her. Maybe it was their shared interest in fighting, or the fact that they'd basically both grown up in poverty. Quite possibly it was the fact that neither of them got along real well with their brothers. In any case, he found himself thinking of her when they weren't together, and he grew impatient for the next meeting." 

********

_"We have to talk, Raphael. It's important." _

"No. I'm busy. Perhaps some other--" 

"No! Now! I am still the leader here. That much has not changed. Why have you been sneaking off to spar? We are brothers. Don't you trust us?" 

"I have my own reasons." 

"No good. We are a team. A family. We need each other for help, protection and support. We need you, Raphael. You can not go your separate way." 

"Yeah..." Don sighed as he thought about this conversation, about everything it had meant at the time. Eventually, things had changed though. "Some family we turned out to be." 

_"It's personal." Raphael insisted. "I can't be cooped up down here. You wouldn't understand." _

But Leo wasn't about to let up. "You crave danger? Excitement?" 

"What are we, boring?" Don asked. 

"To Raph." Mike grinned. 

Raphael had just about enough. He turned to leave, but Leonardo grabbed him by the edge of his carapace. 

"Yet, you lack discipline and forethought." 

"Just great," Raphael whined. "A lecture." 

"Our enemies are everywhere...you put her in constant danger. You ever think of that?" 

"No...no, I just..." 

"You are obsessed with beating her...this obsession makes you weak. You have turned from us, brother. How can we trust you? You must never see her again." 

"Raphael was angry at first. How dare Leo say such things to him? But as he thought about it, he realized he really _was_ obsessed with beating her. Leo had been right. Only...it stemmed much deeper than that." 

********

_Not wishing to be found out, Raphael planned their next meeting very late at night. As soon as Lucindra arrived, he led her deep into the sewers, far away from the lair. Unbeknownst to them at the time, the Foot had been tracking her for several weeks by now, and they'd followed her here. Once they were far enough away to not be heard or seen, the enemy made themselves known, surrounding them on all sides. _

It was a very uneven fight - thirty to two. Raphael knew their odds were bad, and he tried to protect her, but she wouldn't hear of it. Raphael was her friend, and besides, their attack was partially her fault. They worked together, Raphael with his sai, and Lucindra open handed as usual. They made a great team. As their enemies fell one by one, Raphael realized that Leo had been right all along. He should have never dragged Lucindra this far from the lair. He had put her life in danger. It had been a very irresponsible decision. 

They were making short work of their enemies, but they were beginning to tire, and thus couldn't move quite fast enough. 

"Raff! Look out!" 

Something was whizzing past his head. Shuriken. Quickly, he moved in front of her, trying to block her from the attack. Several of the stars found their way into his right arm and leg, slicing him up pretty badly. Lucindra had been hit too, but not as severely. She watched in terror as Raphael slumped to the ground. 

Lucindra was alone to fight off the remaining Foot, and she had problems of her own. The poison was starting to effect her system. She was slowing, becoming ever more groggy and disoriented. Yet, she carried on, knowing that Raphael needed her help. 

"She carried Raph for several city blocks until she could walk no more. Luckily, we had been on their trail. When she spotted us, she thought we were more of the enemy, and she prepared to defend herself. Not wishing to cause her any further injury or upset her even more, Mike knocked her over the head, rendering her unconscious. 

We rushed them to Splinter just on time. His tea and healing herbs worked their magic quickly, and soon Raphael was back on his feet. It was Lucindra that we were more concerned about. Splinter made Raphael tell us everything, from the night they'd met until their rumble with the Foot just a couple hours previous. As he told his tale, we made a dramatic desision. We would invite Lucindra to spar with us, to become ninja as we were. With her abilities, she would be a definite asset to our team. Finally, as she started to awaken, Splinter gave Raphael a fresh cup of tea for her and led us away. 

To this day, I am unsure what happened to Lucindra. She obviously turned down our offer. Raphael never said much about what happened after we left. I always assumed that our plans didn't coincide with her own. I guess I'll never know now." 
    
    ^^ACCESSING...LAST NAME THOMPKINS...FIRST NAME LUCINDRA...FIVE FILES FOUND...ONE  
     UNACCESSED^^

Donatello stared at the panel of circuits in awe. "Play it, Chet." 

********

He found himself standing in a small, simple room. The old walls were worn, yet stable. Despite the condition of the matted brown carpet, Donatello could tell that she'd done her best to take care of this place. There were a few posters on the walls, but not much else. A bed, a nightstand, and a rickety dresser were the room's only furniture. 

"This must be her bedroom." Donatello decided. 

Chet did not respond. 

_("I knew I probably shouldn't have followed him, but I was worried.")_

It was Michaelangelo's voice. This must have been a page from his diary. 

_("There was something in his eyes that went beyond depression, or even frustration. I just had to make sure he was okay.")_

Lucindra suddenly appeared before him. From the looks of it, she had just gotten out of the shower. Her wet hair hung down her shoulders, and dripped onto the silky peach robe that was tied loosely around her waist. 

A look of alarm crossed her face as a sound seemed to echo up the wall right outside the window. The fire escape! Was it her brother, Malcolm? No, even Malcolm wasn't that stupid. He had the key. He could enter through the front door. 

Lucindra took a breath, keeping calm control of her emotions. She had trained herself for this. One could never be too careful in this neighborhood at night. She rushed to the living room and grabbed a ten pound barbell, mentally preparing herself to bash the person's head in if they tried anything funny. Still slightly woozy from the poisoned shuriken, she stumbled back to her bedroom and positioned herself at the side of the window, her back pressed firmly against the wall. Sucking in a breath, she waited... 

After several minutes, her persuer finally made it to the top. She could sense his presence, and as he got nearer, she could make out the figure's dim shadow on the adjacent wall. A sound reverberated through the room. He was banging on the glass, trying to get her attention. Gasping, she gripped the barbell tighter and prepared to defend herself. But before she could lash out, she heard a familiar muffled voice calling out to her. 

_"Lucindra!"_

_"Raff?"_ Stunned, she turned to face the window, and could make out his stocky sillhouette in the moonlight. She dropped the barbell and unlatched the window, pulling it open quickly. The night air was warm and breezy, and as it flooded in, he sat there for a moment, noticing how it caught the ends of her long hair, and tossed the folds of the silk robe loosely around her. For an instant she looked vulnerable, helpless, and he found himself staring. 

_"Dammit, Raff, don't ever do that to me again, kay? You almost gave me a heart attack!"_

_"Sorry."_ He said quietly. It was obvious there was something on his mind. _"I just...I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?"_

She made a motion with her hand that it was alright to enter. Slowly, almost warily, he jumped down from the window ledge and moved toward her. 

Donatello watched in silence. Mike had been correct. Something in his eyes wasn't quite right. 

_("I couldn't have known...I just wanted to check on him. He'd been acting so strangely lately.")_

Donatello stared in amused wonder as he noticed the top of Mike's head pop up in the window to watch them. 

_("I wish I would have never gone there. It was none of my business anyway.")_

Lucindra's eyes were filled with curiosity as she looked at him. Her vision blurred for a moment, causing his predominately green body to look like a giant cucumber. Blinking, he slowly came back into focus, and she noticed the way he was staring at her. His eyes were dark, as if they held a dangerous secret. _"So, what is it, homeshell? I hate to rush you, but I gotta book it for work."_

_"This."_ He held out his hand, showing her the necklace she'd given him. 

_"It's yours now, remember?"_ Lucindra shrugged. _"Don't tell me you came all this way just to give it back."_

_"Why?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Why did you give it to me?"_

Lucindra thought for a moment. _"It's always brought me luck, and I thought you could use some. I mean, with those bugged out ninjas on your tail--"_ She stopped upbruptly, noticing that fire in his eyes. _"Raff? That's not really why you came here, is it?"_

Raphael closed his hand around the necklace and shoved it into his coat pocket. _"No."_

_"What is it? Is something wrong? Why are you buggin'?"_

_"I...I was worried about you."_ he said quickly. _"I knew you were having trouble with your brother, and with the Foot after us and everything...well, I just wanted to make sure you were safe."_

She gave him an incredulous look. _"Raff, check it, kay? I can take care of myself. I'm a big girl."_

_"I know, I just...that poison really knocked you out, and--"_

_("I knew that look in Raph's eyes.")_ Michaelangelo explained. _("There was something he was trying to hide...a secret, something he was too ashamed to voice.")_

_"Raff, just spill it, kay?"_

He stared at her for a moment, as if gathering his courage and then said simply, _"Reconsider."_

_"Reconsider?"_

_"Join us, Lucindra."_

_"Oh Raff, I told you--"_

_"You have skills we could really use."_ Raph went on, almost pleadingly. _"We need you..._I--_ need you..."_

She stared curiously into his eyes. Had he just said what she thought he'd said? Yes, he had, but of course he hadn't meant it _that_ way. 

_"I know what you mean."_ she said softly. 

He stared at her in skeptical anticipation. _"You do?"_

_"Yeah...check it, you're the only one who seems to really understand me. We're alike on a lot of levels. We fight great together. Your moves keep me on my toes, and really let me get out my aggression. It's a great release, ya know?"_

He took a step toward her. _"So...you feel it too?"_

_"Well, yeah. Sparring with you is rill dope."_

_"I knew it."_ he said softly. _"I knew it wasn't just me."_

As he moved toward her, he faded out of focus again, and a waft of dizzyness overtook her. Lightheaded, she sank down onto the bed. For a moment, she was in another world, totally oblivious to what was happening around her. Her head was throbbing, and her shoulders and neck felt like they were on fire. Disoriented and uncomfortable, she tilted her head and began to knead her sore neck muscles. 

Raphael sensed her discomfort. _"You in pain?"_

_"Aw, it's nothing...just a little sore from scrapping with those wacked out ninjas."_

_"Here,"_ he said gently, kneeling on the bed next to her. _"Let me help."_

_"Raff, what are you--"_

He moved behind her and laid his hands as gently on her shoulders as he could, his fingers barely touching the silky material. He sucked in a nervous breath. He was only fifteen years old. He'd never even touched a woman before, except for April, and that was only to grab her hand and lead her somewhere, or to wake her up in an emergency. As she glanced back at him quizzically, he found himself suddenly mezmerized. Her eyes narrowed in incertainty, and he gave her a little half smile for reassurance. 

_"Master Splinter taught us a little shiatsu massage, although I can't quite do it right, seeing as we don't have a futon and a lot of time."_

_"Raff, I'll be fine. I really don't need--"_

_"Shhh..."_ He allowed his hands to rest firmly on her shoulders, absorbing the warmth from beneath the robe. Swallowing, he slowly pressed his fingers into the base of her neck and began to knead the knotted muscles. 

She lowered her chin and stared down at her hands, stretching the tendons in her neck as he worked. She really didn't have time for this, but what did it matter now? She'd missed almost her entire shift. She would have to make up the time this weekend anyway. Besides, she really was in pain, and Raphael seemed to know what he was doing. As his fingers pressed into her skin, she could already feel herself relaxing. 

He brushed his fingers upward, along the back of her neck, noticing how the muscles tightened and hardened beneath his touch. 

_"Wow..."_ he said quietly. _"You're tense."_

She closed her eyes and could feel his ragged breath on the back of her neck. The warmth it provided was somehow reassuring. It reminded her of the many times they'd sparred, and she'd knocked him to the ground, breathing heavily in exhuastion and frustration. 

_"Don't forget to breathe."_ He said in a low voice as he moved his hands to her shoulders again. _"Breathe slowly, try to clear your mind."_

Lucindra kept her eyes shut and took in a deep breath, concentrating on the pain in her body, on the relief Raphael was providing. There was something about the way he moved, gentle and fluid, almost rythmically, that made her wish she could sit here like this for days. 

He pressed his hands firmly against the base of her shoulder blades, moving them slowly down her back. She kept her chin lowered and let out a pleased moan as the tension began to ease. 

_"Just forget about everything."_ he whispered, his breath warm and soothing on her ear. _"Concentrate on the healing power."_

Lucindra didn't respond. Inhaling deeply again, her thoughts drifted to a soothing blue lake. _The water was smooth and motionless, and very inviting. She stood there for a moment, just staring at it, enjoying the feel of the soft green grass between her toes. _

The tension in her body began to release until she was hardly aware of it at all. Slowly, she took a step toward the placid water, knowing that if she could only wade in its depths, the pain would fade away. 

Donatello was astounded. Was he seeing her thoughts? "Chet, what is this? How--" 
    
    _^^I AM ONLY RELAYING THE INFORMATION I HAVE BEEN PROVIDED WITH, DONATELLO^^_

"But...how could Mike have possibly known...?" 
    
    ^^THE DETAILS OF LUCINDRA'S THOUGHTS, ALTHOUGH VAGUE, ARE WRITTEN IN THE END OF THE  
     JOURNAL ENTRY. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO FORWARD TO--^^

"No." Don said quickly, feeling a little guilty that he wasn't yet ready to move on. "I understand. Mike was always good at picking up on thought patterns when he really tried. He probably got a glimpse of what she was seeing and just sort of made the rest up." 

He glanced toward Michaelangelo, at the curious wide eyes that were still peering through the window. 

"Please, Chet. Continue." 

The scene started up again. 

Raphael could feel Lucindra's body growing limp beneath his hands. It seemed as though she was deep in thought, almost oblivious to what he was doing. He moved closer to her, his chest plate brushing lightly against her back. He rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered into her ear. 

_"Does that feel good?"_

_The gentle breeze was warm and reassuring. It blew past her as she walked, tangling her hair. She moaned in response. The fresh air was indeed soothing._

Raphael rolled his hands up her back, kneading the muscles before sliding his fingers back down again. Her body continued to relax under his caress. Her responsiveness intrigued him. He'd never touched a woman so intimately before, and she seemed to be enjoying it. 

Encouraged, he applied pressure to her lower back, his hands moving with slow precision. Lucindra was lost in the healing feel of his touch. She was a million miles away, in a world all her own. 

As his rough, reptilian fingers slid over the smoothness of her human skin, and the soft material of the silky robe, Raphael could feel the heat rising inside of him. He stared at her intently, shocked by the intensity of the feelings that were running through him. Something felt different. He wanted something...he wanted it bad. He stopped his hands for a moment, realizing they were trembling slightly. His heart was pounding. Why was this happening to him? It frightened him a little, yet he didn't want to stop. His breathing heavy, his groin aching, he tried to ignore it, and continued with the massage. 

His hands went back up to her shoulders, and down her arms, moving with an aching slowness and precision, working each muscle until it completely relaxed. 

_She was sitting in the grass, her feet dangling in the lake. Tingles of pleasure prickled her skin as the water's warmth filled her. The breeze was growing stronger, but it too was warm, like the soothing heat of a person's breath._

Trying to control the peculiar intensity of these all too familiar feelings, Raphael ran his fingers very lightly up her arms again, and when he got up to her shoulders, he gripped them firmly, and began to knead them with the heels of his palms. She let out another moan of pleasure, and before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was touching the soft skin under her jaw. 

He pulled up his head and glanced at her quickly. His heart was beating harder than ever before. She made no protest. Swallowing, he lowered his lips to her skin again, kissing it gently as the heat between his legs rose to an unbearable point. Gently, he ran his tongue over the flesh of her neck, his hands moving slowly over her shoulders. Although the tension in her body had faded, he could feel her beginning to respond, and he worried for an instant that she might disapprove. 

On the contrary, still lost in a trance, she tilted her head to the side, inviting him to continue. Breathing raggedly, he dragged his lower lip down the newly exposed flesh, stopping only when he met with the fabric of her robe. He rose his eyes to stare at her, and could see she was still out of it. He was unsure if he should continue. She was still dazed from the effects of the poison, and he didn't want to force himself on her. Yet, it wasn't as if she was unconscious for pete's sake! She could have stopped him at any time. Deciding to trust his reasoning, he laid his hand at the base of her neck and gently brushed the material from her shoulder. 

Eagerly, he lowered his face to the golden brown skin, taking in the fresh smell of her soap. The scent was oddly arousing, and his head began to fill with images of what she might look like under the robe. 

He glanced at her face again, unsure whether he should be doing this. But something inside of him wouldn't allow him to stop. Noticing that she still made no objection, he kissed her gently on the shoulder. The firmness of the muscles aroused him all the more. Not wishing to wake her just yet from the relaxed state, he moved his hands down her spine again, rubbing her back lightly. 

The intensity, the urge was building up in him ever stronger. A moan escaped him as he nuzzled her shoulder, nibbling it delicately. He ran a hand over her hair, entangling his fingers in it. 

_She pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside, ready to enter the water in only her underwear. As she took a few steps into its depths, the wind began to pick up, sending ripples across it's surface._

_"Lucindra"_ Raphael whispered desperately. 

_She heard someone call her name. "Raphael?"_

His mouth moved up her neck with quickening pace. He slid his hands down her sides, barely feeling the curve of her body under the robe as he gripped it in his fists. He found himself wanting to rip the material from her body, to touch what was beneath. 

_"Raphael..."_

_"Lucindra..."_ he breathed into her hair. _"We need eachother. I know you feel it..."_

She was starting to stir. He kissed her cheek and her neck, and he could feel her shiver. 

_The lake became animated around her. The ripples in the water were increasing, and small waves began to form on the surface. The heat began to intensify, yet it wasn't uncomfortable. Instead it was assuasive, almost soothing._

Raphael pulled the robe down a little bit further, exposing a small area of her back. His craving intensified as he kissed it. 

_The water was swirling and leaping all around her. She thought she would be swallowed whole, until she heard his voice again._

_"Lucindra...I've been waiting for this for a long time."_

Suddenly, the lake and the grass disappeared and only blackness remained. She sat motionless for a moment and let the dizzyness pass before opening her eyes. Consciousness was returning rapidly. She could feel his mouth on her, trailing across the back of her shoulder, his hands gripping her sides, searching. 

It felt good, yet an alarm began to go off in her head. What was he doing? Swallowing, she tried to ignore the discomfort that was starting to rise in her. 

_"Raphael...what--"_

_"Shhh..."_ He continued to kiss her tenderly, his warm breath tousseling her hair. 

She was fully awake now, and could see that Raphael had begun to undress her. She felt instantly embarassed and uneasy. 

_"Raff...wait."_ She pulled away from him, and rose from the bed, still slightly dizzy from the poison. She recovered her exposed skin with the robe, and turned to face him. 

_"What?"_ He stared at her blankly. _"What's wrong?"_

_"Raff, I...can't."_

_"I don't understand."_

For the first time since she'd met him, she felt uncomfortable and insecure in his presence. 

_"Lucindra..."_ That dark hint of guilt in his eyes as he stared at her made her uneasy. _"I don't--did I do something wrong?"_

She didn't know what to say. She didn't want this, she never had. Yet, it had felt so right, and that's what scared her. _"I...no. It's me. I just...I think of you more like a homeboy than anything, Raff, and I don't--I just can't."_ She looked at him for a long moment, as if coming to a decision. _"Jesus, Raff, you're just a kid."_

Raphael sunk to his knees on the bed and stared up at her in silence. He was still breathing heavily, but most of the moment's intensity had already begun to fade. 

In a flash of embarassment, Donatello realized that he too was having some difficulty catching his breath. 

_"But you said you felt it."_ he said softly. _"I thought you wanted--"_

_"I don't."_ She said quickly. _"I mean, I think maybe part of me did for a while, but then I realized..."_

Raphael lowered his head and stared down at the soft red bedspread. He tried not to think about the dissapointment, the anger at himself that was rising inside. 

_"Raff?"_

He didn't answer. He couldn't look at her. Guilt and shame and animosity wouldn't allow it. 

_"Raff, check it. You know you're important to me. We had some kickin' times. And you know we're on the same level. That's why I can't--"_

Raphael kept his sight on the comforter and bit his lip. The shame and sadness in his eyes almost made Lucindra change her mind. 

_"Raff, my family needs me right now, and yours needs you. You're one happening turtle, kay? But I can't get involved right now. Raphael, I'm sorry, I--"_

She moved toward him, but he rose from the bed quickly and turned away. _"No"_ he mumbled. _"No, you're right. I should have never--I mean, I'm a freak. I'm great for sparring with, but why would you ever--"_

_"Check it, Raff, it's not like that, and you know it."_

_"Yeah..."_ Deep down, he really did, but right now his hurt pride was the only thing that was real to him. 

_"You'll always be my homeshell, Raph."_ She gently laid a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned to face her, but his eyes seemed to be looking _through_ her rather than _at_ her. _"Goodbye, Lucindra."_ he said softly. _"Until we next meet."_ But he knew he would probably never see her again. 

Donatello watched, helpless as Raphael moved toward the window and stepped out into the warm night air. Michaelangelo was nowhere to be found, and that was probably lucky for him at the moment. 

_("I followed him all the way home.")_ Mike's voice echoed sadly. _("He never once looked back.")_

As the image of his brother slowly made its way back to the lair, Donatello couldn't help but feel badly for him. It was one of the few times he'd ever seen Raphael so openly wounded. 

_("I thought I should tell Splinter or maybe Leonardo, but I decided that it was none of my business. Raphael needed to deal with this on his own, and it wouldn't be fair to invade his privacy. I had done enough of that already.")_

Fresh tears on Raphael's green cheek, and a hand closing over a small round medallion were the last things Donatello saw before the scene faded to blackness. 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER THREE**

  


  


_When you look to the past for life's long hidden meaning  
For the dreams and the plans made in your youth  
Does the thrill to achieve match the warm hidden feeling  
That lies so still and lives in you_

In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter  
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future  
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher  
Than the look inthe eyes of a child

You've found the place to walk the path you've chosen  
You'll never miss the world you've left behind  
When life gives life, it's happiness unbroken  
When you give love, it's love you'll find

In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter  
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future  
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher  
Than the look in the eyes of a child 

- Air Supply, "The Eyes of a Child"

  


  
** _The end of suffering..._**  
_The sky is jet black and unbelievably dark. The stars shine brightly in contrast, as if warning the inhabiting creatures of impending doom. They stand far below, in the deserted parking lot, oblivious to their heavenly guardians, however. For they have a much more urgent situation to deal with._

"You jackass!"

A flash of blood...

"Raph!"

A quick glimpse of a trench coat...

"Raph! Shit..."

The flash of light glinting off a chain...

Sounds of a struggle break out. There are too many of them. Too many for only one...

Yet he fights on, pushing every muscle, gathering all of his energy and power.

The crack of wood splintering bone, the muffled sound of bodies falling to the pavement. The other one struggles to open his eyes. He has to see what is happening. He has to get up, he has to try.

Another crack, a yell of pain...

His eyes scan the darkness. He can see it now...he can see...

"NO!!!"

"No!!!" Don bolted upright, his eyes opening wide in terror. He sucked in a breath, staring at the room's decor as if seeing it for the very first time.

"Shit." he whispered, lowering his face into trembling hands. "Shit, not again."
    
    ^^DONATELLO...ARE YOU WELL?^^

"I don't know, Chet...God, I don't know..."

He kept his eyes shut tight, listening to the nothingness that seemed to surround him. The chirping of birds in the distance finally disrupted the deadly silence. Lifting his head cautiously, he glanced toward the window where the bright oranges and reds of morning had already begun to light up the sky.

"Just a dream." he said quietly, rubbing his eyes. "I must have fallen asleep." 

Rising to his knees on the floor, he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and glanced at the Liquid Crystal Display on the wall. The clock read six-thirty-two. From the looks of it, he had only slept for about a half hour.

"Chet..." The trembling voice that came from his mouth was not his own. It was high pitched, almost scratchy, and laced with a hint of fear. He cleared his throat, hoping to hide his worry and doubt. "I need some coffee."
    
    ^^AS YOU WISH, DONATELLO. I HAVE ALREADY TAKEN THE LIBERTY^^

The rich, earthy aroma filled the air as a hot mug slid from a panel in the wall onto the counter. A plate, on which rested a steamy piece of toast, followed. Don smiled despite himself. He was really glad to have Chet around. Not only was it his only companion, but it was efficient and helpful as well.

_With Chet around, who needs a wife?,_ he thought to himself. _Yeah, right. Who'm I kidding?_

He wrapped his hands around the mug, cradling it as he carried it to the table. The heat that bled through into his palms was somehow soothing. Although he wasn't very hungry, he went back for the plate and sat down at the table, breathing in the steam that rose from the mug. It reminded him of Michaelangelo. Now that guy could make a cup of coffee!

But suddenly his demeanor changed again, and he found himself even more depressed than before. As his head filled with images and memories of Michaelangelo, most of what he saw was joy and laughter. But the sorrow and grief he remembered far outweighed all of the happy times they'd shared.

He took a bite of toast and gazed out at the brightening sky. "Mike loved sunsets." he mumbled quietly. He lowered his eyes to stare into the coffee at his aging reflection. Chet made it black--no cream, no sugar, just the way he liked it. "You know that moment right after sunrise when the sky is a grayish-blue, and the bright orange of the sun has almost made its way over the horizon? The air is refreshingly cool, and if you look hard, you can still see the moon floating in the sky. Facing west, the light at your back seems unbelievably bright. That was his favorite time of day."

He realized that Chet, being a computer, couldn't possibly know what he was referring to, but it didn't matter. He was speaking more to himself anyway.

"It _is_ pretty awesome. It's a lot like life. You face it one way, and all of your troubles, all of the bad things are behind you. Turn around, and you're suddenly blinded by them, as if you were staring directly into the sun."

He dropped the toast on the plate and rested his chin in his hand as another wave of sadness washed over him. "He was my little brother, Chet. He was innocent. It was so unfair! I--I wish it could have been me instead." He leaned over the table, resting his forehead on his arm. "Why couldn't it have been me?" he whispered.

There was a long moment of silence as Don reflected on all of the things he wished he could change. He still blamed himself for not being there when the others needed him. It was a guilt he had carried with him for a very long time. Finally, he rose his head and stared out the window at the pinks and lavenders that still highlighted the diminishing clouds. The sky was growing bluer by the minute. Soon the rainbow of colors would be gone, and the day would take over.

"I knew he was upset." Don sighed. "He tried to cover it up, but I knew he was having a hard time dealing with Leo's absence. Who could have known that a few weeks' sabbatical to the mountains would turn into months of worry and frustration?"

He paused for a moment to take another sip of coffee. "Poor Mike. He was so worried about Leo, and with Raphael...well, it was a mess.

It's amazing too, how much Leo overlooked." The mere thought of his brother made him want to cry. Things shouldn't have ended the way they did. He wished he could turn back time...just go back and do it all over again. He thought back to when they were just kids - about five years old at the most. Their heads had been so full of dreams and wishes back then. He couldn't help but smile as he remembered the failed invention he constructed out of a bunch of discarded wires and an old cardboard box. _Maybe someday I'll build that time machine..._ His smile lingered for only a brief moment, before it slowly faded away.

"I could tell so much just by studying Leo's eyes. It was almost as if he was oblivious to what the rest of us were feeling toward the end. We were so mentally connected, yet there were times when he couldn't even see that one of us was in pain. It was especially apparent right before he left. It was almost like he was a different person inside." As he considered the many grueling possibilities, a shiver ran up his spine. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remember the things he'd kept bottled up for so long, the things that hurt past pain, that clung to him like the very skin on his bones and refused to let go.

"But I, on the other hand, always knew somehow. While the others thought I was busy with my head stuffed in my books, I was watching them, learning from them, analyzing them. And it helped me to relate to what they were feeling, and better understand myself. I just wish that I could have found a way to tell them. Maybe then, things would be different."

********

Don thought back to a night long ago, the one that seemed to start the cycle of chaos that would become their reality for the next several months.

"Casey killed someone..." he sighed. "Not a member of the Foot, or even a murderer on the street, or a kidnapper...this was just a punk kid. He must have only been about fifteen years old. He was far from innocent. In fact, the kid belonged in juvenile hall, but the whole ordeal should never have happened. 

Splinter had asked Casey to hide somewhere in Springfield so Leo, Mike and Raph could hunt him down. They had only three hours to find their prey, and if they failed, they would have to walk the entire way home. Even though the idea of the hunt was invigorating, this was a big task my brothers had before them. Little did we realize that the night would pose much more of a threat to Casey, however.

I remember that night like it was yesterday. When they returned, Mike recapped the entire chain of events for me. They finally caught up with Casey, but he wasn't alone. Our old police friend Nobody had gotten a hold of him. He'd seen everything. Casey admitted to killing the kid, but he claimed it was an accident, an act of self defense. I wasn't totally convinced at first, knowing what a hot-head Casey could be, but when I looked into his eyes, I could see that he felt terrible about the whole thing. In fact, he was really punishing himself for this. 

Casey could be brutal at times. In fact, sometimes that guy could really piss me off. But, truth be known, he was no murderer. I think he learned his lesson that night, but he never was quite the same after that. He started drinking..." 

As he spoke those words, a picture of Raphael flashed in his mind, and he nearly choked. The mere thought of alcohol always brought about that same haunting image. It forced him to remember things he'd rather forget...things that had drastically changed the life he once knew, stolen the things and people he'd loved.

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, forced the thoughts from his mind. It was getting more and more difficult to control his feelings as the time wore on. All of these memories were surfacing so quickly. He could hardly concentrate on any one particular thought, which was rare for him and almost scary. Still, he wouldn't allow himself to lose it. Not yet at least. Swallowing, he focused his attention on that night once again, and on the fate of his human friend. 

"He went on a drinking spree--one right after the other until he puked, and then he drank some more. I hated seeing him like that. It was despicable." 

Truth be known though, Donatello now understood what had driven Casey and Raphael toward the bottle. He'd considered it himself lately, on more than one occasion, when the pain became almost too much to bear. Still, he wouldn't allow himself to sink to that level. He'd experienced first hand what alcohol could do, and he'd studied its effects enough to know how dangerous it could be.

"He was rude, obnoxious, and just plain contemptible. And this lasted for the next couple of days. I was sitting on a log overlooking the river the following afternoon, contemplating the fractal structure of natural patterns in the ripples of the water, clearly minding my own business, when he approached. He started babbling incoherently at me, and I could smell the stench of his breath from halfway across the log. I tried to be civil, tried to keep him calm, help sober him up a little, but he would have none of it. He accused me of thinking that I was better than him, when in truth, I had never thought that. It was true that we didn't share many of the same views on the world, but in a way, I looked up to him, for his courage and self confidence. Right now however, he was merely irritating and irksome, and I had better things to do with my time than argue with an intoxicated buffoon. I told him to go home and sleep it off, but he accused me of judging him over the death of that kid. I tried to ignore him, but he refused to let up. He broke a branch loose from the log and came at me, poking and jabbing me with it, taunting me. I'm not one to lose my temper quickly, but finally, I'd simply had it. We battled right there, on the middle of that log, a talking bipedal turtle and a drunk vigilante. Heh...what a sight that must have been. God, what the hell was I thinking?" 

Don couldn't help but smile a little at the memory. "The battle was over rather quickly, but I must say, even in that drunken state, Casey gave it all he had. Perhaps it was the anger guiding him, I don't know, but when he landed below in the river, a part of me filled with pride. Later, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, but heck, he'd deserved it."

Don sighed and sipped his coffee, gazed out the window. "I can't pinpoint the exact moment that finally brought about the downward spiral of events. I believe that the shocking reality of that night could have helped trigger its beginning, but there was much more to it. A long chain of harsh reality had been gradually tearing us apart for years. It was only a matter of time until the strain became too much and the chain eventually snapped.

The every day stresses of life seemed to be weighing on each of us more and more as time wenton. Even Master Splinter hadn't quite been himself as of late. With our constant bickering and the time spent away from home, his patience was running thin. And as everyone knows, even the calmest of personalities can ignite when provoked.

His conversation with April the next morning certainly hadn't helped things. I understand that she was beginning to feel unappreciated and trapped. It was a hard way of life for her, and we really didn't take the time to tell her often enough how much we really did need her. Being away from mainstream human contact was beginning to weigh on her. I can't blame her for that. She needed a chance to be with her own kind, to fit in. If I could relate to nothing else she was feeling, I certainly understood the idea of wanting to be accepted. 

But Splinter also was beginning to doubt his value. Even though he never admitted it, I think our seclusion had a very strong effect on him. Casey and April were the only ones who had truly accepted us and considered us family. And now he was beginning to doubt the sincerity of that as well. His age was wearing on him, more so now than ever, and he felt like a burden on our human friends. I believe he felt guilty for bringing them into this life of seclusion and secrecy, and it didn't help matters when April voiced her resentment for it the next morning. It became too much for Splinter. For the first time in my life, I saw my sensei's strong thread of patience snap. 

The result was a break-up. Splinter said little before he headed off for the woods. April took the next plane to California, and Casey...well, I'm not really sure _where_ he headed first. Suddenly, the four of us found ourselves stranded. We'd been alone before, but this was the first time that Splinter had truly left us. There had been no explanation, just 'goodbye, see ya around.'"

Don stared down at his hands. He studied the fine lines and scales that made up the intricate pattern of his reptilian skin, trying desperately to push past the emotion that had choked up in his throat.

"I keep wondering what would have happened, where our lives would be right now if we'd never separated. I know it's foolish to look back. I know I can't change the past, but still, the thought nags at me. I don't know if I believe in destiny as Splinter did, but I'd like to think that everything happens for a greater purpose. God, do I wish I knew what that purpose was."

He let his sight fall to the empty plate, distracted by thoughts of honor and battles and fear. Shaking himself, he rose from the table. After setting the dish in the sink, he pressed a button on the wall's control panel, and a fresh, steamy mug slid onto the counter. He picked it up and carried it back slowly, studying the delicate pattern of red Japanese flowers that decorated the white porcelain, and reminded him so much of his deceased sensei.

"We weren't sure what to do...where to go." He said, taking his seat once again. "Leo decided it would be best if we went back to New York, back to our 'roots'. Maybe then we could make sense of all of this and figure out what to do next, just in case Splinter decided not to come back. It's funny sometimes how you can get so used to something, that before you even realize it, you start taking it for granted."

********

_Mike gathered the blanket tighter around himself and hurried through the door of the small water tower as the gusting wind and stinging rain lashed at his back._

Don welcomed Mike back, watched him dry off. "Want me to take next watch, Leo?"

"Hmmm...?" Leo seemed preoccupied. "Yes...I suppose you should."

Don and Raph exchanged confused glances. "What's on your mind, Leo?"

Leo sighed. "This confusion...this lack of clear purpose...it weighs on me. Like the cold of the approaching winter, it seeks to paralyze me...and I can't seem to shake it--"

"Hey, loosen up, Leo...we can't have you quitting on us!"

"Not quitting, Don...accepting reality. Trying to come to grips with these two facts--we need to do something...and we don't know what the hell we're doing!"

Raphael shifted in his seat, and turned to look at Leo. "Maybe...maybe if Splinter was here...he'd know..."

"Maybe...and maybe not. It's time for us to grow up, Raph...time to accept our limitations, and time to see the world for what it is. Time to accept our true place in it. Maybe...time to turn away from all this."

Mike was surprised by Leo's words. He never thought he'd hear his brother back away from his promise to Splinter. "Leave? But...but...what about our duty? What about...honor?"

Leo shook his head. "Honor? Heh...I'm beginning to think there's no place for honor in this world. Greed...hatred...violence...the lust for vengeance...these are the primary motivators."

"What motivates you, Leo?" Raph asked.

"Lately...I don't have a clue..."

********

"From then on, Leo slowly began to change. It was hardly noticeable in the beginning. It started with little things--differences that were hard to see without the untrained eye. Of course, over the years, I had taught myself to be observant. To this day, I'm not even sure if Splinter realized the extent of his transformation. I think I bear that burden alone. I should have done something...but in truth, what could I do? I hadn't even been sure I wasn't imagining it all.

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't that he was becoming a monster. On the contrary, if anything, he seemed to grow more lenient, less aware of the dangers around him. To this day, I cannot tell you what brought about such a drastic change. We all thought it a little strange that he was so eager to establish a peace treaty with Karai. She was the leader of the Japanese branch of the Foot Clan, a woman who we hardly knew. How could we even begin to trust her? Something about the idea nagged at me fiercely, but I knew I had to keep my confidence in Leo. I figured he knew what he was doing. Amity between our clans was a very well anticipated concept for me. On the other hand, the Foot was our sworn enemy, and Leo had vowed to Splinter that he would never turn to their side, that he would avenge his master's death and carry out the honor and codes our sensei had instilled in us. It was true that if we joined Karai in her efforts we would be presented with an opportunity to destroy the memory of Oroku Saki and end this war, but the fact still remained that Karai was a member of the same clan of people that had destroyed everything our master had known and loved, and made our lives hell. I certainly wasn't convinced that we could trust her fully. Seeing Leo cave in to Karai's wishes so readily was rather...odd. His decision to side with her wasn't a well accepted one."

_Raphael stood against the wall, his arms folded in defiance. "What are you saying, Leo? We should ally ourselves with the damn Foot Clan?"_

"I'm simply asking you to consider it as an option."

"But...we've been at war with them for years! They're our freakin' blood enemies!"

"Are they?" Leo asked gently. "If so, why? Think about it...think back. We're in this because...because..."

"Because of Master Splinter." Mike finished quietly.

Leo nodded. "Since we were children, Master Splinter taught us, trained us for one thing: to avenge the death of **his** master, Hamato Yoshi. Since that day--when we first killed the Shredder the threat of the Foot has circumscribed our lives...and through us, Casey's and April's lives too. Who can blame them for wanting to leave?" Leo asked sadly. "I know I can't."

The others just stared at him silently as he continued. "But now...now we have, with Karai's proposal, an opportunity...a chance to break this chain of vengeance and death...and reclaim our lives."

Mike spoke for them all when he asked, "Leo...what would Splinter say?"

"I'm unsure..." Leo answered. "I would gladly die for him...but...I don't know if I can give him my life."

"It bothered me that Leo had taken such a stand in this matter, but in a way I understood. We had given seventeen years of our lives to our sensei with little thought about our needs and wishes. And all of the bloodshed, the fighting, the fear for our very existence--it weighed on me heavily. Still, I protested. Leo was always recapping the ideas of honor for us, so I thought this ample time to remind him of our promise to Splinter. He agreed wholeheartedly, but I could still see that something had changed for him. For a moment, he seemed almost as confused as the rest of us. Everything was transforming so rapidly around us, I wasn't even sure what was right myself anymore.

But in the end, we followed Leo's lead--because, he was afterall, our leader. Besides, we had faith in him. In his heart, he always tried to do what was right, and this time would be no different. There was no one else to turn to for advice anyway. Master Splinter was gone, and we weren't even sure if he was ever coming back. This was our chance to utilize the wisdom he'd bestowed on us. The decision was ours alone. I just prayed that we made the right one."

********

_Bodies...bodies everywhere. Slain Foot soldiers lay strewn in heaps across the floors. Leo could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the urgency gripping him. _

God, what if they've done something to Karai...?

Faster and faster they rushed through the building, nearly slipping on the blood that oozed out of the silent corpses. Donatello felt utterly sick. He wanted to leave this place, to close his eyes and never look back.

All of this death...all of the blood...

"Karai, are you alright?"

She was kneeling on the floor cradling a teenage girl in her arms, her face full of misery and pain. Mike stared in concern at the wounded girl, felt something tug at his heartstrings when he looked into the female ninja's face.

"Your aide...is she...?"

"No" Karai's voice was weak and filled with emotion. "Not just my aide...She was my only daughter. A child!" She closed her eyes allowing the tears to force their way through, spilling over her delicate cheeks. "Swear to me you will kill them...swear to me you will kill them all!"

Leo stared at her for a moment, at war with his own emotions. The time had come to make the final decision. If they sided with Karai, they would break the bonds of rivalry, possibly forever. A part of him craved for this peace. Yet he remembered what his master had said about honor. Would this treaty be honorable to Splinter? He had to remind himself about what they were fighting **for**--to destroy all memory of their enemy, Oroku Saki.

He stared into her face, his eyes darkening. "I swear it."

********

"It was a bloody battle that lasted many grueling hours. So much blood was shed and so many lives were lost. Our adversaries were quick and precise. They held the skills of true ninja warriors. In the end, however, I was confronted with the last of the Elite. He seemed to be the strongest of the bunch, Oroku Saki's right hand man. Exhausted and wounded, there wasn't much I could do to stop him when he crept up on Karai and pressed a sword to her neck. I could hardly move with my broken leg, and even if I had been able to walk, I was too far away to reach her on time..."

Don swallowed and closed his eyes. "There was a gun nearby. I knew it was her only chance. Concerned more for her safety than anything at the moment, I picked it up, and before I knew what I was doing, I had filled him full of bullets. He fell back on the pavement, and all I could do was stare at him in horror. Finally, returning to my senses, I dropped the weapon and looked away. God, I hate guns."

He took a long drink of the coffee, savoring it as if he hadn't consumed any liquids for days. He emptied the mug and pushed it aside, his thoughts drifting to times long past.

"The death and destruction was finally over. Karai vowed to keep the treaty of peace between us. She would return to Japan and continue her leadership in the Foot. We wished her well, and finally, emotionally worn and physically wounded, we left the city behind us."

********

"We headed back to Northampton with the deaths of the Elite fresh on our minds. It was a hard time for me. I kept thinking about Leo's words, how Splinter had raised us solely for the purpose of his own vengeance. It didn't seem right. There had to be more to it. And as we journeyed back to the long forgotten farmhouse, I couldn't help but wonder about what had become of our sensei...and April and Casey for that matter." 

Don stared out again at the light of day. The sky was a vivid blue, clear expect for a few vague clusters of puffy white clouds. A gentle breeze played with the plants outside his window, and as he studied their dance, he thought about his old friends once again.

"It was weird how we managed to meet back up with them. It was as if the hand of fate had drawn us back together. After tossing our few belongings into the abandoned farmhouse,we headed down to the lake for some much needed relaxation. This time of year, the area was mostly deserted, and we were free to roam about freely and do what we pleased. It was great not having to live up to responsibilities, if only for a little while. I don't think Leo was ready to find Splinter yet. He was still fighting an internal battle of his own.

_'Hey, what the heck is that?'_

Raph turned to Mike. _'Huh?'_

'That...out there on the water.'

Leo's eyes followed Mike's pointing finger to an area of the lake, not more than fifty yards away from us. Raph and I exchanged worried glances. There was definitely something out there, andit was mov ing.

_'Shit!'_ Leo said suddenly. _'Everyone take cover. We've probably been spotted!'_

Mike ducked down behind a large boulder at the water's edge, Raphael climbed a nearby tree,so quickly, I almost couldn't tell where he had gone. I found solitude on the side of a grassy slope, and Leo sank silently into the underbrush.

It was silent. There wasn't a sound except for the chirping of birds and the faint splashing of water from the person in the lake. I sincerely hoped we'd found shelter in time. After a few moments, I felt safe in the knowledge that whoever was out there seemed totally oblivious to our presence. I peeked my head up from my hiding place and glanced at Leonardo. He stood as motionless as a statue, serious eyes peering out through the maze of twisting vines and branches.

The rustling of leaves above my head startled me. I glanced up quickly. In the shade of the tree, I could barely make out the silhouette of Raphael's dangling feet.

_'Hey!'_ he yelled. _'It's April!'_

We were really surprised when we realized it had been our human friend swimming around in the water all along. My brothers hurried to the water's edge, as stealthily as the ninja they were, and dove in. I stayed back, naturally, seeing as how I really couldn't run or swim in my condition. I watched eagerly as they sank out of view. She was totally oblivious to their presence. I can still hear her screams as they pulled her underwater. Only seconds later, she resurfaced, and was tossed up into the air by three green pairs of outstretched hands. Casey almost had a coronary." 

Don grinned. "We were together once again. I think it amazed April that we had come back. We had all come to accept the fact that we might never see each other again. What was even more astounding was the site of Casey, cradling a baby in his arms.

Casey explained that the baby had belonged to a woman named Gabrielle. I could see in his eyes that he'd cared for her. They'd only been together a few short months when they'd decided to get married. Their relationship was short-lived, however. Gabe died in childbirth, leaving Casey to father his step-daughter alone. I don't know what he would have done if he hadn't met backup with April. She was great with that kid...treated her like she was her own.

Casey decided to name her Shadow. I believe her namesake was a dedication to her mother. Of course, Mike liked to think that "Shadow" was a tribute to us and how her life would be now that we were all back together--hiding in the shadows, living a life of secrecy. In either case, the name seemed to fit her quite well."

********

When we finally met back up with Splinter, I decided to stay with him in the seclusion and quiet of the woods for a while. My mind was still plagued with hundreds of questions about our teachings, about honor, and above all else, life and death. I craved answers. I had to know the real reason behind our training. Why had we been forced to endure such a hard life with such difficult decisions? Was it only about revenge, or was there more to it? It was an awkward conversation, but one that I could not back away from. I had to know, no matter what the outcome.

_'But Master, I don't understand.'_

'You will in time, my son.'

'But why? Why do we have to kill people?'

'It is not something I prefer to do, Donatello, but sometimes it is a necessity for survival. I have taught you the ways of ninja...raised you in it so that you might protect yourself against your enemies. For there are many.'

It was difficult for me to voice it, to think that my words might dishonor my master, but it was an idea that had stuck with me for quite some time. _'You taught us the martial arts...you trained us for thirteen years, so that we could seek your vengeance.'_ My tone was more accusing than I had meant for it to be.

Splinter lowered his head, stared into the tiny pinpoints of flame that dotted the wicks of the surrounding candles. All was silent for many minutes until he finally spoke, his eyes still fixed to the light of the fire.

_'When my master was murdered, vengeance was all I had left, Donatello. Do you not realize that it was my honorable duty?'_

Now it was my turn to grow silent. Of course I knew all about the code of honor. And I had no idea of what it must have been like to lose the only parent, the only master he had ever known. I couldn't fathom the idea of losing Splinter. He was all we had in the world. Still, Leonardo's words stuck with me. We had been trained for most of our lives to be murderers. It hadn't stopped at Oroku Saki. It branched out into the Foot, and from the Foot to sanctions of the mob. It had even carried over into the streets. When would it end? Where would the line be drawn? It seemed a crime to me that with each slaughter, the killing became easier. It was almost as if we had become totally desensitized to it.

_'Yes, master Splinter, but what about all of the innocents? The ones who weren't even sure what they were fighting for?'_

He laid an aging hand on my shoulder and looked me in the face. It was an awkward moment. I could see the sorrow in his eyes, and I felt the guilt that comes only from blaming a parent for something vile and unspeakable. Yet I had disclosed the truth about my innermost feelings. I could only hope that my honesty would account for something.

_'Not one day passes in which I do not think about the souls of the lost, my son. But as the cycle of life ever turns, death falls on those it may. Those who lost their lives did not do so without purpose. Nothing happens without a reason.'_

I didn't particularly like his answer. I understood the ideas he was trying to instill in me, but that didn't validate the reasoning behind their deaths, at least, not in _my_ mind.

_'Oroku Saki had many allies. We cannot hold ourselves responsible for the conscious choices they decided to make. They chose their path in life just as each of you have chosen yours...'_

_Chosen_ our path? How was it that we had ever gotten a say in how we would live our lives? It angered me that Splinter said such things. Nothing in our lives had been put before us to decide. Our fate was sealed from the day we'd made contact with the mutagen, to our first battle, and even until the day...well...until the time we separated.

_'Donatello, one of the major teachings of the Buddha is that everything that exists has a nature to be born and a nature to die. There is not one thing that does not have a beginning or an end. Such is the way of life.'_

An eery feeling crept over me. I couldn't even fathom the idea of my own death, not to mention that of my brothers or Splinter. Yet, I knew he was right. Maybe everyone was destined to spend an exact amount of time here, and no matter what happened, where our paths led us, we would die when it was our time.

_'It is our place in this existence not to question, but to learn from our mistakes and successes, just as we may learn from those of others.'_

I looked at him warily. _'Yes, I know master, but as I try to learn from this, all I can think about is the fact that **I** had a hand in so many deaths. Who am I to take the life of another? Hell, we don't even know anything about those we've killed! Who were those people really? What did they do in their spare time? Did they have families? Kids? God, Splinter...what if they had kids?'_

The sorrow seemed to deepen in those brown eyes, and I felt another tinge of guilt. We both realized that I was accusing him. But just what exactly was I accusing him of?

_'Donatello, do not blame yourself for preserving your right to live. Your opponents would have done the same if given the chance. I cannot change the path I have set before you. Only you can decide what direction your life will take from here. I only wish that I had not had to raise you for such selfish purposes. I would have never done so if there had been any other way, my son. I can see what sorrow it has brought to you...what struggle. But alas, we cannot change the past, nor can we alter what is destined for the future. Our only option is to live ourlives the best way we can and to try to do what is right.'_

I knew there was no more arguing over this. Splinter had made his point. Besides, my head was too full of conflicting ideas to think straight. Swallowing, I stared into the fire and nodded my head. _'Yes, Master.'_

But it wasn't myself I blamed."

********

_"I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gonna keep me down..."_

The music poured from the speaker as the small crowd of smiling spectators gathered around to watch the evening's entertainment. Mike held his arm around Shadow's waist and dragged her swiftly to the center of the living room floor. He closed his big stocky hand around her tiny one and whipped her around in a dramatic circle. Shadow let out an unrestricted giggle as her feetleft the floor and she was spun around and around by Mike's strong arms.

_"I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gonna keep me down..._

He brought his other hand to her waist, gripping it, and slid her down between his feet, then jumped in a turn to scoop her back up again. Shadow's laughter rose, taking April away from her busy preparations in the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. She made her way to the living room, stopping when she spotted the crowd that had gathered. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching them in silent wonder.

_Where'd he learn to dance like that?_ Mike had the little girl up on his shoulders now and was deliberately dramatising every step, causing her to bounce and teeter around his neck. April smiled to herself. _And the way he is with Shadow..._

The little girl held so much faith in him. It was almost as if just a simple heartwarming smile, just a gaze from those dancing eyes, or a lighthearted joke could take away even the worst pain or hurt. She only hoped that as Shadow grew older, that solid faith in him wouldn't let her down. She hated the thought of seeing her heartbroken. There were advantages to knowing their special friends, but there were so many drawbacks as well.

She pulled her eyes away from the laughing pair, spared a glance at Casey. He was watching the dancers intently, and when he finally returned her gaze, the unmistakable sparkle in his eyes spread, lighting up the rest of his face. Casey was, of course, a kid at heart. Through that rough and tough exterior beat the heart of a genuine puppydog. She knew what he washinking. They had been considering the idea of having more kids for a long time. In truth, the only thing really holding her back was the fact that they weren't married. Casey could be irresponsible and as rash as Raphael, but he was a decent father. He loved Shadow and made sure she was happy and safe.

_"I take a whisky drink, I take a vodka drink, I take a lager drink, I take a cider drink..."_

At the mention of alcohol, Leo couldn't help but turn his eyes toward Raphael. _He better not..._ he brooded silently. _Not tonight._

_"I sing the songs that remind me of the good times, I sing the songs that remind me of the better times..."_

Shadow was back in Mike's arms. He was spinning her around and around, growing wearily dizzy, but he couldn't stop, not when it was bringing Shadow such joy. As the room circled maddeningly fast around him, he saw April's smiling face, then her back as she retreated again to the kitchen. 

Donatello sat at the table, chin in hand. As he watched the dancers in silence, a slow grin spread across his face. Michaelangelo was such a ham. Yet, he couldn't deny that his brother held a certain charisma that seemed to draw people to him. Mike was eloquent, quite the charmer. If he'd been human, Don was sure that the women would be swarming around him. That was just Mike's way. It was a natural born gift, just as science and knowledge had been his own. He had to admit to himself that he was a little envious, not for reasons someone might expect, but for the mere fact that his brother had such a carefree outlook about life. No problem was too big to handle. He, on the other hand, took stock of every obstacle. He had a compulsive need to dwell on the problems and complications that arose, to discover new and better solutions. There were so many things to explore, so many things he still knew nothing about. Life was too short to waste on fun and and games, not that he didn't like to havefun. There was a limit, however. Knowledge...that was the key.

_"Okay, who's ready to eat?"_ April appeared in the doorway cradling a cake in her arms which was dotted with four tiny flaming candles.

Mike jumped at the offer of food and hurried toward her. _"I do!"_

Raphael snorted and shook his head. _Good ol' Mikey...always so predictable._

_"Hey, me foost. I'm duh birfday gull!"_ Shadow protested.

Mike turned to her and smiled, a slight hint of mischeviousness at the corners of his broad mouth. Quickly, he scooped her up in his arms and brought his fingers to her ribcage.

_"Oh, is that so? Well...you know what birthday girls get? Birthday tickles!"_

Shadow giggled and squirmed wildly. April watched them intently, nervous that he might accidentally drop her. But Mike was careful. If there was only one thing in the world he was serious about, it was her safety.

The others gathered around hungrily as April set the cake on the table. The four turtles had many birthdays behind them, but almost none with cake and presents. This was a luxury for them as much as it was for Shadow.

Casey flicked off the light and everyone gathered around the kitchen table to present their very unappetizing rendition of _Happy Birthday._

_"Okay"_ April announced. _"Make a wish!"_

The little girl closed her eyes, squeezing the lids tight in concentration. After a couple of silent moments, she opened them and blew as hard as she could on the candles. They sputtered out with one breath. She smiled shyly at Mike, who threw her a wink and a smirk. For only he shared her secret wish that Casey would marry April.

"It was a long night. After stuffing our faces full of cake, playing the usual party games (which Raphael turned his nose up at naturally), and Mike's romps around the house playing 'horsey' with Shadow, everyone was exhausted. Shadow had gone to bed for the night finally, and the four of us stuck around for a while to chat with April and Casey."

As Don thought back, a sense of dread overcame him. "It's too bad how quickly the happy times fade, Chet. One minute you're with your family, and you're so close, so rhapsodic that you feel as though nothing can ever hurt you. But the next, something unexpected grabs you by the throat, and the world turns upside down." 

_"It's a game."_ Casey said bluntly. _"You do know what a game is, right Leo?"_

Raphael grinned. _"A game to Leo is seeing how many katas he can do before passing out."_

Mike snickered.

Leo just gave Raph a look. _"Very funny."_ He turned to Casey. _"So, how do you play?"_

_"Simple. We each have three cards...one that says 'Yes', one that says 'No', and one for'Maybe'. Then, each person is asked a question, and we have to pick which answer we think they'll give. If we get it right, we get a point."_

"Sounds simple enough." Don said, taking his three cards.

_"Don, you go first."_

"Hmmm...? Why me?"

"Because, Mr. Brainiac. We want to get in your head and see what makes you tick." Raph gave Don an evilly mischevious look.

_"Fine. Whatever."_ Don watched indifferently as Casey picked a card.

_"Okay...let's see...aw, this is too easy..."_ Casey frowned at the card. _"If your family was hungry, would you steal food for them, even though you knew it was wrong?"_

Don smiled. _"No. I would come over here and ask you two to spare some."_

_"Yeah, but...what if they weren't here, Don?"_ Leo asked. _"I think what it's asking about is if you were all out of options."_

Don thought for a minute. _"Well then...yes. Though it technically wouldn't be stealing. I would be simply procuring such items out of need for sustenance. I would most certainly replenish the supply once our monetary situation was restored."_

Raph frowned at Donatello in agitation. _"WHAT!?!?"_

Donatello smiled at him indignantly. _"Exactly. Next?"_

Everyone moaned as they stared at the cards they had chosen for his answer, trying to figure out if they'd guessed correctly.

Raphael rose shakily to his feet. _"I need another beer."_

Leo frowned at him, that sense of dread coming over him. He wished he was sitting next to him so he could grab his wrist and make him sit down. _"Raph, don't you think you've had enough?"_

Raphael folded his arms, taking a defensive stance. _"No, I don't Leo. And you're not my parole officer, so back off."_

Leo sighed in anger as he watched Raphael open another can and sit down. Although the alcohol hadn't yet affected his speech, his demeanor had definitely been altered. It seemed to mellow him out a little, which was one effect Leo almost appreciated. But at the same time, when Raph was drunk and angry, it could be a lethal combination.

_"My turn then?"_ Don grinned. He did so love confusing them. He looked from Leo to Raph, then back to Leo again. He took his card quickly, hoping to continue on with the game before a fight ensued. _"Okay...this question is for Leo. If you were offered a million dollars to cheat on your spouse just one time, would you do it?"_

Leo didn't even need time to think, but he waited a few seconds for the cards to be chosen. _"No, of course not."_

_"Yeah, like hell..."_ Raphael mumbled under his breath.

_"What was that?"_ Leo's eyes darkened, his face twisting into an annoyed frown.

_ "Oh, come on, Leo. You mean to tell me that after all the shit we've been through, after all those times we didn't even eat for days at a time, that you would actually be stupid enough to pass up that money?"_

"I guess that's the difference between me and you Raph. **I** have a sense of morals and dignity."

Raphael interpreted those words as a threat. He jumped to his feet, his head already dizzy from the effects of the seven cans of beer he'd consumed in the last two hours. _"Don't talk to me about morals and dignity, Leo. You can't even begin to understand what I think about the world."_

_"No...you got that right."_ Leo also rose to his feet and moved toward his brother, their beaks almost touching. _"I can't begin to fathom how someone like you could do things without any thought about what the outcome might be, or the effect it could have on someone else."_

Raphael was seething now, his eyes lit up with internal fire. As he breathed lividly, Leo could smell the stench of the alcohol on his breath, and it infuriated him even more. 

_"You know what your problem is, Raph? You're reckless. You don't think. All you care about is what Raphael wants. Who cares if what you do hurts those who care about you? As long as you get your way."_

Without another word, Raphael sprung on him. They fell back into the middle of the circle, disrupting the game, and sending cards everywhere. April gasped and jumped back out of the way as their limbs flailed wildly. The others were stunned for a moment, unsure what to do. They knew this couldn't go on, but none of them wanted to join the fray. Casey took a step toward the brawlers, thinking that maybe if he reasoned with them...his idea was short lived though. These two meant business. He quickly decided to sit this one out. He didn't think his boss would appreciate him coming into work tomorrow with a black eye. 

Don watched them nervously. The idea of them killing each other crossed his mind. He glanced at Mike who seemed to share the same worry. Reluctantly, the two of them approached and attempted to separate the fuming fighters.

"It was so stupid." Donatello sighed. "It seemed as though we couldn't get through one day without the two of them at each other's throats. Leo's usual self discipline all but vanished when the two of them started arguing. I think Raphael had worn on his nerves for so long, he couldn't contain his anger any more, and in fact, no longer wanted to.

Raphael had a problem. No matter what he knew about the world, he simply could not accept the fact that he could not do as he pleased. Despite his appearance or what he was, he refused to acknowledge the fact that these differences should restrict him from having a normal life in a human world. But as his cravings, his simple needs for an ideal life went unfulfilled, he turned to alcohol. It started with a casual drink here and there, but it soon blossomed into nightly consumption and abuse.

There'd been many a heated argument between he and Splinter. For Raph believed that life was suffering. And even as he sought to change the invariable path of his existence, he knew in his heart that he could never be happy.

Splinter tried to explain the ideas of nirvana to him, the state of achieving total peace with himself and the world around him, but he mocked those beliefs. To him, happiness was having things his way, and when he didn't get them, he sought out other ways to fulfill his wishes.

He'd been getting steadily worse as time went on. Leonardo had just about enough of it. Most days ended with the inevitable nightly argument, and at times, depending on the extent of Raphael's drunkenness, physical fights."

Donatello felt a spasm of horror travel through him. "God...that final night...that fight when Leo--" He choked on his tears, unable to finish the thought. Closing his eyes, all he could see was the horrifying red thickness of blood.

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER FOUR**

  


  


_I look into the mirror  
Can almost count the years  
The memories are clearer  
Of all those things I feared  
I watch the time pass slowly  
It comes and goes like the waves  
The sea can touch the sky at night  
It's got the freedom I crave _

I'm going through changes in my life  
I'm going through changes  
It'll be alright 

Look into a picture  
A thousand years are told  
Now is it any wonder  
What our tomorrows hold  
Our yesterdays are over  
You know they go so fast  
If I could rule the winds of change  
You know I'd make it all last 

I'm going through changes in my life  
I'm going through changes  
It'll be alright 

"Winds of Change" - Cinderella 

  


  
**_The path leading to the end of suffering..._**  
_"Look, Mike, I can take care of myself." Raphael pulled up on the lapels of his trenchcoat and sank further into the shadows, which loomed around them from the protection of the surrounding buildings. "I don't need a babysitter." _

"I know, Raph. I know." Mike glanced around the nearly empty streets and pulled the hat lower over his eyes, shading them in the darkness. The businesses and houses were now dim and quiet, leaving behind a silence so deep, he could hear the breeze whistle through the trees. A couple of cars whizzed past, their tires rolling loudly over the pavement. He stood still for a long while, just staring at the deserted structures. How empty, how quiet the world seemed. How odd for a New York night. After another moment of silent contemplation, he carefully ventured forward. A shiver flowed through him as he walked, but whether it was from the cold or nerves he wasn't sure. 

Raphael was moving swiftly, willed by his own fears and deep sense of need. Mike quickened his pace to a trot. It was a struggle just to keep up with the impatient turtle. It seemed Raphael was on a mission, and nothing, save death, would stop him. 

"I just...those wounds, they--" He cut his words short. He could hardly believe what transpired only a short month ago, the impact it was having on all of them still. He shook himself, trying to shift his focus to something more pleasant, but it was to no avail. 

Raphael stopped walking suddenly, and stood motionless. Mike slowed his pace and watched him cautiously, unsure of what he might do next. The dim streetlights highlighted the hunched shoulders and stiff posture, reminding Mike of a cathedral gargoyle--deathly still, yet poised for action. Slowly, Raph turned to glance at him. Mike gazed into his eyes warily, and he could see the pain that haunted them. There was an emotion contained there that made him uneasy--one that seemed overly intense, even for Raphael. It resembled a feeling somewhere between anger and disgust, fear and sorrow, doubt and regret. When Raph didn't say anything, he finished softly, "They're gonna take some time to heal." 

"Fuck my wounds." Raph said sourly. "Fuck everything!" 

Mike stood still, totally oblivious of the world around him. He watched detached, dazed, as Raphael once again picked up his pace and moved swiftly away. He couldn't help but wonder why he bothered. It was obvious his attempts were never appreciated. He knew he should have stayed home tonight. There were so many other things he wanted to do, things that were so much more worthy of his time. Still, his own conscience had gotten the better of him. Something kept nagging at the back of his mind, commanding him to go. It wasn't safe for Raph to be here. He couldn't allow him to roam the streets alone, not now. 

He gazed up at the stars. It was unusually clear for a New York night, and he could make out most of the constellations Donatello had shown him years ago at the farmhouse. He spotted the Big Dipper first--it was always the easiest to locate. Focusing harder, he found the stars that linked to form the tail of Scorpio. His sight traveled across the night sky, to Taurus the bull, and to the left of that, Cancer and Gemini. Just to the right of those patches of stars, shining like a beacon in the night, was Orion, the "Great Hunter". He stared at the brightest three stars that formed the belt, and then to a patch of dimmer stars which created the shape of the celestial sword. Warm moisture formed at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't deny who the shape reminded him of. It always had. 

He spared a glance again at Scorpio, and remembered the story Don had told him about the two constellations. Myth stated that Orion was killed by stepping on the great scorpion. The gods felt sorry for him, so they placed him and his dogs in the sky as constellations. They did the same with Scorpio, but placed it far from Orion so it could never hurt him again. It was an eery feeling staring up at these stars now. Scorpio had always reminded him of Raphael, but only now did the meaning behind the two truly strike him as ironic. 

He lowered his gaze and quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks. He had to stop thinking about it. What would Raphael say if he saw him crying? There was nothing he could do now but wait. Maybe things would return to normal soon. Maybe things would get back to the way they were supposed to be. He could only hope. 

"Raph! Wait up!" 

Raphael rolled his eyes in annoyance. Why couldn't Mike just leave well enough alone? Why did he have to talk about the things that caused him so much pain? He had to keep his cool. He couldn't allow Mike to see how badly he was hurting, both physically and emotionally. Why had Mike insisted on coming here with him tonight? Didn't he realize how dangerous this could be? But he couldn't let himself worry about that now. It was Mike's own fault for being so damn persistant. 

He kept his eyes focused forward, barely slowing his pace enough for Michaelangelo to catch up. 

"What were you doing back there, taking a nap?" 

"No..." Mike said sadly. "I...I was looking for Leo." 

That got his attention. Raphael's head snapped quickly around to face him, his eyes burning into Mike's disenchanted face. "You what!?" 

The innocence and pain of Mike's own eyes reflected back at him. "Raph, I'm sorry..." 

"God! Stop! Pleeeaaase!" Don gripped the sides of his head so tightly the knuckles began to turn white. Digging his fingers into his skull, he tried desperately to force this eternal nightmare from his mind. He shut his eyes tight, curled into a ball, and sucked in a ragged breath, his chest heaving. 

"Please..." he whispered. "No more..." 

There was a long moment of silence as Donatello, shaking, slowly lifted his head. He was sitting on the floor, the plaster mug smashed into a thousand bits which were sprawled out around him on the tiles. What had once been the coffee he was drinking formed a large dark brown puddle in the midst of the chaos. 
    
    ^^DONATELLO...^^

As he watched incoherently, the dark liquid sank into the microscopic holes in the porcelain, and slowly vanished, almost as if it had evaporated before his eyes. Simultaneously, three of the tiles sank down and automatically flipped, sending the bits of plaster to the recycling room below. In a matter of mere seconds, all trace of the accident had totally disappeared. 

The turtle didn't answer. He heard the soft voice of the CPU only as a faint echo in his head. 

_Echoes..._

why did the good times seem so far away, so distant now? The past was presenting itself with agonizing clarity. Everything was so real to him, as if it was actually happening all over again. For the first time in his life, he wished he could turn his brain off, so he wouldn't have to face such demons. He wanted to forget these memories, just bury them in a small grave, like the one back in Northampton... 

"God..." his voice sounded so small to him, so insignificant. Tears began to flow once again, but he made no attempt to conceal them. He cried openly, hoping beyond hope that the memories would seep out and float away as well. 
    
    ^^DONATELLO...^^

the computer prompted again. 
    
    ^^IS EVERYTHING WELL? ARE YOUR SURROUNDINGS UNSATISFACTORY?^^

Don dismissed the computer with a wave of his hand. He closed his eyes again, focusing on nothing...on everything. A night sky spread out before him. He could see the stars. They burned brighter than he'd ever seen them before. He saw them all, just as he imagined Michaelangelo must have seen them that night--Monoceros the unicorn at seventy-five degrees latitude, Canis Minor almost directly above it. Below that sat Canis Major at sixty degrees latitude. To the right of those were Lepus and Taurus, and floating in the center, amidst the other stars, the haunting figure of Orion. 

  


* * *

_Some there are that torment themselves afresh  
with the memory of what is past;  
others, again, afflict themselves  
with the apprehension of evils to come;  
and very ridiculously both -   
for the one does not now concern us, and the other not yet...  
One should count each day a separate life._

-Seneca 

* * *

  
"They didn't eradicate eachother that night at April's." Don began softly. "They didn't even come close--not really. In fact, I believe Mike and I sustained more physical injury than the combatants themselves. They were both so determined, so damn headstrong, that pulling them away from each other proved to be the most arduous of tasks. Leo seemed to lose himself completely in those fifteen minutes. It was as if all he knew was his anger, a relentless sense of vengeance. For a moment, I almost couldn't tell the two of them apart. 

After the tempers began to cool down, the horror of the situation suddenly overwhelmed Leo. I still remember how he sank to the floor and just sat there motionless for a long while. His eyes were glazed over, unfocused, as he stared coldly into an unknown corner of the universe. It frightened me. I had never seen him so angry, so out of control, and now, he appeared to be internally tormenting himself. I was no longer sure what he was capable of, or worse yet, what torture he was capable of putting himself through as a result. As I watched him, I realized the internal conflict he battled. And when I gazed into his face, all I could recognize was shame. 

Poor Mike came away with a very nasty black eye and several deep lacerations down his arms from their flailing hands. I could tell the eye hurt him something fierce, but he tried to conceal the extent of the pain. Leo felt terrible about it. He was so embarassed over the entire situation that he pleaded with Mike to allow him to make up for it in some way. Mike insisted he was fine, however, and shortly thereafter, Raphael fled, and Leonardo shut himself up in his room. 

Much later that night, I found myself unable to sleep. The air was so quiet, it was like the eye of a raging storm. My heart was restless with dread. Something of great consequence was going to happen between those two, I could feel it. I only wished I could predict what the outcome would be. Not knowing ...that was worst of all. As my eery suspicions continued to thrive, a chill spread through me, and I shivered in the darkness. Way too anxious and nervous to relax, I rose from my bed quietly, hoping not to wake the others. As I crept toward the living room, I hoped to perhaps find a late night science show on television. Brain stimulation always helped to calm my nerves. 

I was surprised to discover that Michaelangelo hadn't gone home. He was laying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the television screen. Although it wasn't unusual for him to spend a great deal of time with us in the lair, he usually made his way to his own apartment by midnight. It was now two in the morning. 

_'Mike...?'_

He turned to me, startled by my sudden presense. I could tell he had been hoping to keep his vigil a secret. His eye looked horrible. The skin surrounding it was tinted several shades of black and blue, the wound so severe that the color was visible several feet away, even over the dark tint of his natural skin. It was so swollen, he couldn't open it anymore. As he peered at me with his other eye, an exhuasted, disdained expression covered his face. He smiled faintly, in a feeble attempt to conceal his emotions, but I saw past it. It was apparent to me that he'd been crying. 

_'Don...'_ He sat up quickly. 

_'Mike...are you okay? You gonna stay here all night?'_

He glanced down at his hands, his lip trembling. It was a struggle for him not to burst into tears. I hated seeing him this way. It sent an ache through me that was almost unbearable. 

_'I...I didn't want to go home tonight. I think I need to spend some time down here.'_

I understood. At times like these, Mike always opted to be close to his family. Despite my usual distance and aloofness, I secretly shared this need. Being near one another seemed to provide a sense of hope and security, however false, that helped us to carry on. 

He wrinkled his face then and made a small painful noise. I watched him intently as he gently covered the swollen eye with his hand. 

_'That bothering you?' _

'Naw, I'll be fine. I took some Tylenol about a half hour ago.' 

'It looks bad, Mike. Here, let me get you some ice.' 

_'No, Don, there are only a few left, and I was saving those for you. That's a nasty bruise you have on your arm--' _

'This bruise is nothing compared to that eye.' 

He began to voice his protest once more, tried to tell me he was just fine, that my wounds were more important and he didn't need all of the unecessary attention. He was always covering up his own needs to take care of us. This time, however, I wasn't about to let that happen. 

My galliant search through the freezer produced a mere three ice cubes. I explored the rest of our underground home looking for Splinter's herbs and bandages, but alas, I found none. I had been hoping to do more for Mike's condition, but an ice pack would have to do. It was better than nothing, after all. I hoped that it would at least reduce some of the swelling. 

After wrapping the ice in a towel, I lowered next to Mike on the couch. 

_'Here.' _

'Thanks.' I watched as he held the towel gently to his eye and laid his head back to stare up at the concrete ceiling. 

_'Don...? Why? Why does all this stuff have to happen? Why now? Why to us?' _

'I wish I knew.' I said softly. 

_'We're drifting apart.'_ His voice was quiet, and choked with emotion. 

When I stared into his face, I realized that my hunch had been correct. The wounds he'd sustained stemmed much deeper than the superficial. They'd reached inside of him, and that was much worse. Physical pain could heal quickly, many times without even leaving a trace of its presense, but emotional suffering--that could last a life time, often leaving behind scars that would never heal. 

_'Mike, things will be okay.'_ I lied. _'Oh, come on, don't cry.'_

I laid my arm around his shoulders and he burried his head in my chestplate. I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the things to come, the inevitable pain we were all sure to face as a result of this distance that was building up between us. I searched myself desperately, seeking out the comforting words I knew he needed to hear. But regretably, no words came." 

Don closed his eyes, attempting to rid himself of these haunting images. His efforts were for naught, however. It seemed the harder he tried to bury the memories in that safe place from whence they came, the harder those thoughts pushed their way to the surface. Emotional and physical exhuastion were taking their toll, but he could not allow himself the comfort of slumber. In fact, the mere idea of it terrified him. Sleep only brought more nightmares, and with those nightmares came the agonizing reality of all he'd tried so hard to forget. Rising slowly to his feet, he stumbled to the counter and nervously poured himself another cup of coffee. 
    
    ^^DONATELLO, ALLOW ME TO--^^

"No Chet...thank you. I can get it myself." He was determined to find something--_anything_ to keep his mind occupied. Mindlessly, he strode back to the table and took his usual seat adjacent from the large livingroom window. It was getting close to lunch time. The thought of food made his stomach grumble, yet he didn't feel hungry. Instead, his mind began to wander, and again, he found himself entrapped in a world of so long ago. 

********

"Oh god..." 

_The pain...it was so tangible. He was laying in an alleyway, his shell smashed into a hundred different pieces, rendering him motionless and vulnerable in the darkness. The fear seeped into every pore of his being, making him want to scream._

"Our eighteenth birthday..." Don shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. "That's when it all really began. We had so anticipated the day when we would achieve the prestigious title of 'adult'. So euphoric were we, that nothing else seemed to matter at that moment. 'Adult'...just what did that really mean, anyway? To Raphael, it was being able to drink whenever he pleased, to go out at night without Splinter questioning his motives. It meant that maybe..._finally_ he could break away from Leonardo's watchful eye. For Leonardo, the title was mostly comprised of symbolism. Adulthood was a representation of all he'd worked so hard to achieve, a sign of his efforts and determination. It was yet another way in which he'd been able to make the sensei proud. Michaelangelo had visions of someday falling in love, maybe becoming a parent. He knew the probability of that wasn't great, however, and he decided he would settle for the opportunity to be someone of importance, a positive role model in a young person's life. He was now striving for that even more actively with Shadow. That little girl meant the world to him, and he would give the world to protect her. But for me, adulthood simply meant that I was now fully responsible for my own actions. Every decision, every mistake rested in my own hands. It was quite a lot to take in. No longer could I rely on the excuse of youth. Gone were the days when we could look to Leo to take the brunt of the blame. Of course, this new-found freedom came with its advantages. Perhaps the others would begin to take me more seriously now, both as a scientist and inventor, and as a person with feelings and dreams." 

Donatello took a long sip from the mug, allowing the hot liquid to soothe him. 

"I'll never forget Splinter's speech that day. He spoke of our mutation, how proud he was of all of us, how far our lives had taken us. I sometimes wonder if he knew, deep down inside, about the horrors that were to come. Maybe he was trying to prevent the unspeakable things that--" 

He swallowed, unable to finish the thought. Closing his eyes, he sat still for a long moment, trying to push back the ugly pictures that had begun to fill his head. Finally, he rose from the table and began to pace the floor. 

"Splinter presented us with a gift--" Don's voice shook audibly. "A glass jar, containing four little turtles, one for each of us. They were so small, so fragile and helpless, just as we had once been. It was like looking into a mirror to a past we could only vaguely begin to grasp. But in that moment, I realized the significance of all he was attempting to show us. 

_'You sometimes wish to fit into man's world. But never forget that this is the life you were born to, and how far you've risen above it!'_

Those words have stuck with me my entire life. 'How far you've risen above...' Did we really though? Did our mutations really change our lives for the better? Many times I have questioned the advantages of my present state. Perhaps it would have been more beneficial if we would have never come in contact with that mutagenic substance at all." 

Donatello lowered his gaze to the table and stared at the fine scratches that marred the delicate surface. It reminded him of his own battle scars from fights long ago, most of which had disappeared with his body's molecular reconstruction. Ironically, he wished those imperfections remained. He decided long ago that he would rather wage those battles ten times over than to go through the transformation again. 

"Everything happened so quickly. One minute, I was reaching for our birthday cake, the next, my body was on fire, bleeding from the holes where cold steel bullets had pierced my flesh. My sight blurred...I became disoriented. The last thing I remember is staring into four snarling cyborg faces, their guns still pointed in my direction. A female of Asian decent was barking orders to the half-witted subordinates. Then, as my brothers' paranoid voices filled the void around me, everything went black. 

We later discovered that the cyborgs and their female superior, Pimiko were employed by a man named Warlord Komodo. Apparently, Komodo's ancestors held great lineage. They once ruled Japan, and now he seeked to regain his leadership. But Komodo also held a secret. Along with his inherited good fortune, he was also heir to the Dragon Bushido spirit. This dormant spirit supposedly lived within him, and provided him with great power. This 'blessing' turned out to be more of a curse, however. The spirit was uncontrollable at best, and in times of stress or anger, he irrepressibly 'mutated' into a Komodo Dragon lizard. He hired many scientists to discover a way to splice human and animal DNA in order to unleash the ancient dragon from its slumber inside of him, and hopefully repair its restless soul. That's where we came in. 

More shocking and ubelievable, however, was the origin of our new enemy, Pimiko. To our amazement, we discovered that Pimiko's father was Oroku Saki--The Shredder. So our old enemy had managed to return to haunt us yet again. Pimiko's mother fled from Saki when she was very young, and Komodo had given them refuge. As payment for this act of kindness, Pimiko was indebted to do his will. She led his group of body guards, the kunoichi, until she discovered that Splinter was indeed the student of her father's enemy, Hamato Yoshi. Setting Splinter free perhaps costed her more than she'd bargained for, but she was determined to avenge the death of her father in honorable combat. 

After their attack on us in the lair, Pimiko and her cyborg underlings kidnapped both me and Splinter, presuming me to be dead. When I finally awoke, I was very disoriented, but it took me only a matter of moments to remember what had happened. Without much hesitation, I began to fight one of the cyborgs for my freedom. During the struggle, Pimiko threw us from the hellicopter. 

The cyborg and I fell through the darkened sky at an alarming rate. There was nothing either of us could do to prevent our demise. With all of the gadgets on the cyborg's armor, he was too stupid to figure out how to use most of them. A quick glance to the ground below confirmed my deepest fears--it was over five hundred yards below us--a long way down." 

He swallowed and gazed out the window. He wasn't sure he could handle reliving this moment in his life in such great detail. Besides, there was so much more of the tale that needed to be told. 

"To make a long story short, I didn't die (as you already know), though at times, I'd wished I had. My shell was smashed beyond repair. I was left paralyzed and in excrutiating pain, barely clinging to life in a deserted alleyway. My only consolation was the moon and stars above me, for they were the only thing within my line of vision. Leo found me through meditation, but by the time the three of them made it to my location, the only thing left was my busted shell. Figuring me to be dead, they buried it in a shallow grave and went to seek revenge. What they didn't realize was that upon the death of the cyborg's host, the armor attatched itself to me, both saving my life and devastating it at the same time." 

He laid his forehead in his palm and took a deep breath. There were so many things he was remorseful for now--things he wished he could do over. But one of his biggest regrets was the cyborg armor. 

"Even after I disabled the artificial intelligence of the CPU...I let it control me." Don whispered. "Here, in my hands...on my body, a very part of my being, was all of this _technology._ It both frightened and fascinated me at the same time. The very thing that had become my life's ambition had not only given me breath, but would now forever be a part of me. For without the armor, I would surely perish. 

I was overwhelmed at first, and excited. I spent the next few months studying the armor's craftsmanship, learning all I could about its design and functions. I did experiments, I tested hypotheses. And each new discovery brought me closer to a world that had previously seemed so far away and intangible. I _was_ science. And not in the 'experimental turtle freak' sense. No, now I was technology itself, and I could use my own body to recreate practially any molecular structure, mold myself to adapt to any situation, invent any new tools I so desired. To put it bluntly, I was a living machine, one that was capable of evolving however I saw fit. And for a while, I was in total awe of my own being. Of course, in my excitement, I hadn't yet come to realize what a danger-- what a total disaster could come from this. 

In my quest for knowledge, I had forgotten myself. I had become so wrapped up in the ideal of my new power, that I couldn't see how it was corrupting everything I stood for. Beyond my outward enthusiasm, was the tragic effect it was creating in me on the inside. Slowly, my newfound interest began to fade, however, and I was left with the devastating reality of what I had become. My entire life, I had wished I could be human, even for a moment--to know what it was like to walk in the sun without confinement, to blend in with society. And now, with all of the technological advances, with all of my newfound abilities, I was less human than ever. No longer was I flesh and blood alone, but metal and circuitry. I was a freak--not only of nature, but now of science as well. 

Oh, the horror I endured when I came to understand the reality of my existence. For I had become the very thing I despised most. Not only had I gained vast technological and scientific ability, but along with that valued capacity, came all of the dangers and all of the setbacks to abusing such power. As my master used to say, _'Absolute power corrupts absolutely.'_ I only wish I had known to what extent my newfound capabilities would take me. 

I had become a living weapon...a killing machine, with such vast power, that a simple thought could wipe out four square blocks. Just one mental image could transform my appearance to any shape I could imagine. My right hand had been severely injured in the fall, and was now replaced with the living metal, which could morph from fingers to bo staff to flame thrower in two point two seconds. I was a danger, not only to myself, but to Splinter, my brothers, and our friends as well." 

********

"While I was caught up in my own little world of self-pity and doubt, my brothers were going through drastic times as well. After my kidnapping, all Raphael knew was rage. In a fit of anger over our disappearance, he attacked the armor of one of the cyborgs that had been left behind. Although the cyborg had been beheaded, the CPU had not been destroyed. It was keeping the vital functions in tact, and therefore, was still able to operate of its own accord. As the sai pierced into the metal body, Raphael received a face full of hot fire that left one side severely burned. After many months, the scarring eventually healed and faded, leaving little evidence behind, save for his eye, which was permanently blinded by the injuries. 

That wasn't the extent of his modifications, however, and although we were all concerned over the wounds and the affect they might have on his emotional well- being, something of much greater significance weighed on our minds. Raphael, still determined to thwart Leo's power of authority, made a rash decision to ally himself with the fallen Foot Clan. He had always hated the Foot with all that was in him, so why now would he so readily befriend those whom he'd considered his blood enemies? But just when we thought nothing could have shocked any of us more, Raphael did something completely ignominius. With Oroku Saki long dead, and Karai's rise to power in Japan, the New York branch of the clan had been left vulnerable and directionless. This provided Raphael with what he deemed the perfect opportunity to find purpose in his life. Perhaps this was his way to show Leo he wasn't the only one who could be in a position of authority, but I believe his reasoning stemmed much deeper. He had a need to feel needed, to know that he had made a difference, however bizarre. Determined to mold the Foot into a cause for good, he deemed himself the new 'Shredder', taking on the dead leader's role--armor and all. It was weird to see that figure lurking in the shadows once again. What was even more creepy was the idea that it was indeed my brother who grimmaced at me from behind the metal mask. 

Michaelangelo didn't seem too fond of the idea either. It made him uneasy to know that Raphael was capable of something so entirely unlike him. We'd all seen to what extent Raph's anger could take him. What would happen if the 'Shredder' felt threatened by his own brothers? 

Leonardo seemed to share Mike's nervousness on the matter. Every time Leo looked at him in the armor, all he could see was the enemy, the vengeful man whom he'd hated so much, he beheaded, to avenge our master's death. The site of the shiny steel filled him with a sense of dread and forboding. How could our own brother become something so vile and wretched as this? He knew nothing good could come of this transformation. 

Of course, Leo's reaction gave the two of them something else to argue about. Leo tried to keep a level head over the matter, but who could blame him for flying off the handle about that one? Raph, the Shredder? It was preposterous. They had many a heated conversation over the significance of Raphael's new role, and the consequences of making such a decision. 

Splinter was not at all happy about Raphael's new career choice. The thought of him taking on the role of his life-long enemy was dishonorable. The two of them exchanged harsh words over the matter. I had never seen Splinter so angry, so hurt. 

_'Seeing you in the armor of my enemy makes me realize that I **failed** not only as a father--but also as a **teacher,** Raphael. Please have the courtesy to remove that mask in my house.'_

Raphael pulled the helmet from his face and held it in front of him. 

_'The **armor** isn't evil, master. Only the **man** who wore it was. I can use it to accomplish **good** things!' _

'How? By leading the FOOT CLAN? They are criminals and KILLERS! They have no honor. They are everything I raised you NOT to be, my son!' 

'They are NINJA, just like us! The old Foot is dead! These are new recruits, to be trained and molded! Won't you help me, master? We can remake the Foot, in your own image!' 

'It is not MY image you use to inspire your troops, Raphael! Do they follow you or the armor? And what of the Japanese Foot Clan? Do you have their blessings?' 

Raphael slid the helmet back over his head. _'I've been trying to contact them but so far have had no luck. But I don't anticipate any problems there. Karai, who runs the Japanese Foot is a friend of ours, remember?'_ He turned his back on Splinter and began to walk away. _'Goodbye, Master. I'm sorry you don't have faith in me. I'm sure you would have helped if it had been **Leonardo** who asked!' _

'Leonardo **already** asked, my son, before you kicked your brothers out of YOUR Foot Clan, and I gave him the same answer. You should have let the Foot Clan DIE!' 

Unfortunately, that was not the end of the matter." Don sighed and shook his head. "In fact, if not for the Foot and that wretched armor--" 

He gasped, trying to contain his composure, but the overwhelming grief flooded him, and he let out a cry of anguish. "If only they hadn't gone out that night...if only..."

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER FIVE**

  


  


_You give me the reason  
You give me control  
I gave you my Purity  
My Purity you stole  
Did you think I wouldn't recognize this compromise  
Am I just too stupid to realize  
Stale incense old sweat and lies lies lies _

It comes down to this  
Your kiss  
Your fist  
And your strain  
It get's under my skin  
Within  
take in the extent of my sin 

You give me the anger  
You give me the nerve  
Carry out the sentence  
I get what I deserve  
I'm just an effigy to be defaced  
To be disgraced  
Your need for me has been replaced  
And if I can't have everything well then just give me a taste... 

"Sin" - Nine Inch Nails 

  


  
**_The Right Thoughts..._**  
Thick fingers nervously pounded the keys. The large screen cast a brilliant light over the rough knuckles, worn and wrinkled with age. It reflected off the rounded beak and penetrated the concentrating dark eyes. The glare was so piercing, it caused him to squint, but he couldn't look away. He had to know the answers to the burning questions in his mind. Would a message be waiting? Would there be a response? 

"Dammit!" He cursed, rubbing the sore spot in his temple. "Dammit, she's...she's got to be dead...she's got to be--" 

He clicked the 'sign-off' button and lowered his eyes. In a matter of moments, the emails disappeared and the screen went dark again, bringing with it an eerie silence that lingered and taunted him. He closed his eyes. _After all this time...no response...she should have answered by now..._

"Chet..." he said finally. 
    
    ^^YES, DONATELLO?^^

"Set your message indicator. I want to be informed the moment any incoming email is received." 
    
    ^^AS YOU WISH, DONATELLO^^

The turtle closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. The events of the past two days had really taken their toll on him. He was exhausted, and his head pounded something fierce. Slowly, almost unconsciously, his body began to relax, and he found himself drifting into a state of meditation. It was practically a matter of habit now. No longer could he simply close his eyes for a moment to think. Each time he did so, his mind began to wander in one of two directions. At times, came broken sleep, and with it the nightmares--visions he couldn't bear to behold, yet ones he couldn't will himself to escape from. On the other side of the coin was that safe place, just beyond conscious thought--a protective realm where his mind was an open chasm welcoming all forms of thoughts and ideas. A place to sort out his feelings, to regroup himself, and on occasion, to see things as he wished them to be. To seek out his brothers and his beloved master, one last chance to grip onto the past before it seeped away between his sweaty fingers. In this meditative state, his master had instructed him well. They'd spent hours upon hours perfecting the techniques in his youth, and now, he had grown so accustomed to the ritual, it was as if it had become a part of him. 

For a brief moment, a matter of minutes that seemed more like seconds, he saw her face. An emotionless pair of hollow eyes stared back at him, expanding across the void. The deep emeralds that had contained so much wonder and love had now lost their sparkle. He stretched out his hand, but she was just beyond his reach. It was always like that. Everyone he'd tried so desperately to grab onto was too far away. He could bear to gaze upon her image no longer, so with some effort, he willed it away. 

Meditation was like that. Unlike dreams, he had _some_ control over his thoughts here, which rendered it far safer than sleep. He took a deep breath and gazed about him. For years after he left New York, he would come here, searching for his brothers, for any last string of hope, but he had found none. Only silence greeted him, and nothingness. So was it now as well. Nothing left but an empty space...a misty embankment welcoming his darkest fears and deepest desires. Nothing tangible...only pictures that flashed before him, incidents he couldn't bear to relive, still, ones that he didn't dare forget... 

_"Oh my god, Leo! Your hand!" _

Donatello found himself standing in April's apartment. It was as it had been so many years ago. A friendly airiness engulfed him, making him feel safe and warm. He gazed at the furniture. Large, comfortable couch lining the wall--smaller loveseat matching it adjacently. Windows framed with curtains. Something cooking on the stove. Television blaring. Splinter, having come over for a quick visit, rocked in a chair, Klunk resting fitfully on his lap. 

Leonardo was standing before them, his fingers curled around his left arm, a bandage at the end soaked and dripping with blood. His face was twisted into a grimace of pain. Michaelangelo fought back the heat that had begun to rise behind his eyes. This wasn't the best time to get emotional. He had to act before Leonardo bled to death. 

From the misty recesses of his mind, Donatello couldn't help but feel nauseated. He'd tried to avoid thoughts of that night, tried not to remember the pain and anguish Leonardo had suffered, the mental torment the others went through as they fought desperately to help him. But now the scene was unfolding, and something held him entranced by it, unable to will the haunting images away. 

_"Sutures, now!" Splinter commanded, breaking the silent trance that held the friends motionless. Michaelangelo took off for his apartment as fast as his legs would carry him while Casey led a queasy Leonardo to the couch. Splinter rose from the chair and slowly approached his pupil. He laid a hand on Leo's shoulder, and the turtle looked up at him through the torment he was trying so desperately to conceal. _

"Leonardo, you are in pain." 

"I...It's not--" Leo began to protest. 

Casey interrupted. "It's bad, Splinter. It's real bad." 

The elderly rodent knelt down in front of the weakened turtle and gently took the injured arm by the elbow. Leo let out a gasp as Splinter straightened it and gaped at the bloodied gauze. An alarm went off inside of him. Instantly outraged, he fought to contain his anger and disgust at what had been done to his pupil, and instead focused on the urgency of the wound. Leonardo had lost a lot of blood. They had to act quickly in order to save his life. 

Leonardo struggled to sit up, but Splinter pushed him gently back onto the cushions. 

"You must rest, my son. You need your strength." 

"B...but, Master..." he gasped over the pain. "I...I'll be...alri--" 

"Shhh...quiet yourself." The fear and concern was apparent in his sensei's eyes. 

April handed Splinter a blanket, which the rat then draped over the weary turtle. "Michaelangelo will be here soon, and then we will remedy that which can be repaired..." 

The scene slowly faded and the images of his family went dark. Donatello opened his eyes, his breathing slow and even, reflecting his concentration. He blinked a few times, disoriented, and the room slowly came into focus again. 

"I wish I could have helped..." He said quietly. 

But he hadn't been there. He had never lived that moment. His only memories were from Michaelangelo's sorrowful reenactments. Still, the thought of one of his own being so severely wounded had given him nightmares for weeks. This wasn't a first for Leonardo, however. He had been so close to death so many times... 

Suddenly, the images began to fill his head again. Blood...the flash of steel...darkness... a look of utter terror in his brothers' eyes... He stifled a scream. 

Gasping, Don felt the world tilt. He reached out his hand blindly and gripped onto the edge of the table for support. His knees felt weak, his breathing came in short gasps. He had to make it stop. He couldn't stand it! 

His voice strangled in his throat and he let out a guttural cry. The darkness entrapped him, spun around him, rendering him dizzy, making him want to vomit. He dropped to his knees on the floor, his stomach heaving--and then, in a tumultuous rush...the images ceased, and all was deathly quiet. Don's eyes flew open, his chest heaving. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought to gain his breath. 

"So close to death..." He whispered hoarsely at last. "So close, and then..." 

He swallowed as the room continued to spin around him, twisting his reality to odd proportions. He didn't dare shut his eyes. Instead, he rose slowly on shaky legs and found his way to the window. He pushed it open, inhaling deeply, and his mind began to clear. He smelled the fresh flowers, soothing, comforting. But before his body could completely relax, new images began to form. Flowers...the chill air...sadness...dirt...a stone... 

"No!" He told himself sternly. "No, no, no, no, no..." 
    
    ^^DONATELLO?^^

"Chet--" 

He latched on to the distant voice of the computer, familiar, safe. Slowly, slowly, the mist of memory began to ease. The horrifying pictures faded. He was in his home. He was all right. Everything was okay again. But it _wasn't_ okay. Things hadn't been okay for a very long time. 

"Leonardo..." The name came as a whisper. 

Donatello gazed at the panel of wires and circuitry, his thoughts on a time long ago, on his brothers. He focused his attention on the images he'd received in meditation, the day Leonardo lost his hand, and it brought to mind an experiment he'd performed long ago. 

"Chet, in your harddrive somewhere are the cloning instructions for the regeneration process. The one I used to do _this."_ He stretched out his arms and glanced down at the green reptilian skin that covered them. Here and there, the veins rose beneath the skin, defining the muscles, and traces of scars from old battle wounds marred the glistening surface. Nothing metal now... nothing foreign or inorganic. 
    
    ^^YES, DONATELLO. FILE NUMBER THREE-TWO-TWO-FOUR-THREE-SEVEN. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PULL UP THE PRO--^^

"No. Not at the moment, thanks Chet. No...I was just thinking..." 

Deciding he could use the caffeine boost, Don poured himself another cup of coffee and sank into one of the chairs at the table. A funny thought occurred to him just then. There were four chairs and only one of him. And he so rarely got visitors. What was the point? Did he actually hope that they'd return to him someday? He pictured the three of them joining him at the table, their faces animated as they discussed old times. Sighing, he lowered his head, and the images faded. That day, he knew, would never come. Even with all of the technological advances of the twenty-first century, there were still things that he just wasn't capable of. 

A long silence passed while Don sipped his coffee. The sorrow he was experiencing now threatened to entrap him. 

"I perfected that process on Leo..." He continued at last. "You could say he was sort of my guinea pig for the experiment." A slow smile crept into the corners of Don's mouth. "He was so hesitant about the whole thing. He had nightmares for weeks about the cyborg armor attacking him, stealing his DNA...all sorts of bizarre happenings. He made me promise to never do to him what was done to me. He reminded me over and over about just how much the CPU had been in control of me, how it had changed me. It wasn't a memory I was particularly fond of. 

"After his loss, Leonardo just wasn't himself. He tried to cover up his ill feelings and press on, but beneath the charade of acceptance and endurance was the veracity of depression and distraction. Everything was more difficult. The simplest tasks became nerve-wracking chores. Even his sparring suffered. It was hard to fight and maintain balance with only one hand. 

"In those weeks after the amputation, we all did our best to keep Leo going. Splinter gently pushed him to focus, while the rest of us tried to cater to and cradle his wounded ego. Leo kept a moderately level head through it all though. That was so much like him--retain the leadership, push yourself beyond your boundaries, never let them see you waver. God, if only his stubborn mind could have allowed him to be _human..."_

Again a flash of metal appeared in the recesses of his mind, a pool of blood. He swallowed and blocked them off, struggled to recompose himself. 

"In honor of his protests, I fitted him with a simple prosthetic instead. It strapped onto his arm, and was designed to move via use of his arm muscles. Even then, he was very reluctant to trust the new hand. Despite his hesitation, it proved to be quite a miraculous piece of work, if I do say so myself. At least, in the beginning. The hand enabled him to hold simple objects, including his katana, and with practice, he was even able to do simple katas and light sparring. But soon, he grew tired of the limitations. He couldn't put his all into practices, and each movement took great effort and concentration. It began to be more uncomfortable and frustrating than it was worth. 

"When the prosthetic failed, he slipped even deeper into despondency. Leonardo's torment ate at me. I still, to this day cannot explain why his situation distressed me so. Whether my persistence was more out of guilt, or sympathy, I still am not sure. One thing was for certain, however--if it was my fate to remain a cyborg for the rest of my days, the least I could do was put my newly found abilities to good use. I was determined to find a way for Leonardo to be a fully functioning member of the team again. Finally, after months of coaxing on my part, he agreed to give my idea a chance, but only under one condition--he made me promise that I wouldn't let it take control. If anything went wrong, I was to remove it immediately, no questions asked. He would rather be a cripple than suffer the life that I had so narrowly escaped from. 

"The process did not prove easy either, believe me. I can't decide which of us suffered more from the testing. The first thing to discover was whether the cybernetic technology would even _allow_ me to transplant an appendage. I spent hours at a time studying the armor's design and functions. I was determined to discover all I could about the technology that, at that time, continued to indirectly control my life. Even if the experiment were to fail, my research would not go to waste. Each discovery brought me a closer understanding of myself and my new body. I hoped that perhaps someday I could be free of the metal flesh altogether. 

"I considered my options carefully. The plan was to take an amount of my own armor and use it to develop a new, separate appendage, which could then be transferred to Leo. His hand would be a metal replica of the original at best, much like the prosthetic, only fully functional. It would not be based on muscle movement, but would instead mold with his own flesh, bond with it, creating a realistic hand that would be just as good, if not better than the original it replaced. 

"But I also needed a back-up plan. What if the technology wouldn't take to Leonardo unless its original host--me--was dead? I would give up a lot for my brothers, but the idea of surrendering my life in exchange for a workable hand was ludicrous. I knew Leonardo would have shared that opinion. My only other option was to sever my own organic hand and transplant it. That idea seemed outlandish as well. Not only would I be left with two inorganic replacements, but it would be an almost unfathomable task to reconnect all of the tendons and arteries in Leonardo's wrist. I discarded the latter idea, and hoped beyond hope that all would go well. 

"To my surprise, the removal of my replicated hand was excruciating--not from mental anguish over the loss, but the physical pain it exuded far exceeded my expectations. The metal regenerated very quickly, which also brought discomfort, but it was only a matter of minutes before all traces of the injury disappeared. 

"That was not the worst of the painstaking process. As soon as the appendage was disconnected, the circuitry began to search for an appropriate host on which to thrive. Quickly, carefully, I began to attach it to Leonardo's arm, taking great care not to hurt him in the process. Still, the transplant caused Leo much torment as the metal bonded and fused with his injured flesh. This made his apprehension grow all the more. I assured him that the discomfort was only temporary, and luckily for us both, the experiment was a success. In no time, Leonardo had two fully functioning hands once again." 

Donatello smiled to himself. "How his spirits lifted then. He began to practice harder and more fervently than ever before. He apologized for his mistrust, and vowed that someday he would repay the debt. There was no need for acts of gratitude though. I could see the appreciation all over his face whenever he made use of the cybernetic replacement, and that was good enough for me. Heh...even when the name-calling and good-natured teasing began, Leo took it in stride. 

_'Hey, look, it's Leo Skywalker!'_ We used to say. 

_'You guys are just jealous...'_

"In the weeks following my scientific triumph, I devoted most of my free time to further biological studies. My main emphasis was on mitosis--or more simply, the point during a cell's division when the chromosomes are duplicated and distributed to each of the two daughter cells. I followed closely every step of the process, from prophase, to metaphase, anaphase to telophase. I knew the task would not be an easy one. Still, the concept in itself was not new. A cell's natural course of action is to divide. Scientists had already been studying ways in which to take advantage of this process. With modern technology, they were eventually able to replicate new cells, and indeed, entire DNA strands. Science was progressing at an almost overwhelming rate. Cloning was no longer a concept left to science-fiction books, but was now a reality. Goats, sheep, and even human beings had been successfully cloned. And the concept was rapidly advancing. Before long, internal organs such as bladders and livers were being grown in petrie dishes. 

"With an almost unearthly energy, I conducted the most intense of my experiments. I began simple, extracting a small skin sample from my hand. It took a very powerful microscope, and a very steady hand in order to extract the chromosomes from the cells' nuclei. It was a long, painstaking process. Little by little, I began to replace the chromosomes with those I had extracted from Leonardo. The only way this experiment would work, was if our DNA strands were close enough in chemical make-up. The DNA synthesis had to be very accurate, or else too many errors could cause the cell's mutation and thus doom the cell altogether. Luckily, our strands were almost an exact match, proving two things at once--mitosis and replication were possible between our cells, and we were indeed blood brothers. The cells multiplied as hoped, and it wasn't long before a sample of Leonardo's skin began to grow. 

"I monitored the progress for a long time, concerned about disturbing the biological processes which were taking effect, lest I should curse the project and render my efforts unusable. Finally, I began to graft the skin onto Leo's new hand little by little, unsure how it would take to the cybernetic circuitry. To my surprise and relief, the skin did not die or shed as I had first feared. In fact, it did just the opposite. Because his hand was no longer blood and bone, but living metal, it fused with its new covering, bringing life to the freshly grown cells. My success brought me new motivation, and soon I had grown enough skin to cover the entire hand, fingers and all, until there was almost no trace of Leo's injury." 

Donatello smiled, his focus distant for a long moment, as if memories had him in their grasp again. Not painful ones as he'd been experiencing so often as of late, but less intense, almost bittersweet. After a long silence, he shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the present. 

"Years later," he said quietly, "When I came here, to Japan, I built you, Chet, and when I programmed you with all of my memories, I also gave you the formulas for my experiments. Shortly thereafter, I began to incorporate those results with modern technology in order to create what you see before you." 

He ran his eyes quickly over himself. How real, how natural his body seemed. It was, after all, a carbon copy of the original, at least in appearance. Even the scars were there. He'd taken a mixture of his own surviving DNA, with samples from each of his brothers, which he'd frozen years ago in case of unexpected emergency. Now that he was alone, and he knew none of them would be needing the samples, he decided that it would be appropriate to use them for his own needs. 

"It took five painstaking years to complete the entire process, but it was worth the frustration and long hours. With this technology, and the aid of my brothers' DNA, I was able to regrow over seventy percent of my bodily tissues. The most difficult were the veins and arteries... even most of my cartilage and some of the bone structure had to be reconstructed. Luckily, most of my internal organs were still intact and able to function without the support of the CPU. As for my shell...I remembered the place my brothers told me they'd buried it. Although it was not in the best of shape, the basic frame and structure was there, so all I had to do was fill in the holes. 

"I guess you can say that in this, a part of each of them will always be with me." Don said softly. "As always, they've made me whole." He sighed as he rubbed his arms. "It feels so good to be rid of that blasted CPU. I'm whole again Chet, if not in spirit, then at least in body." 

********

"We were so caught up in our own problems and our own endeavors, that we failed to notice how much the past months had taken their toll on our sensei. He was growing more fragile and delicate all the time. We all knew he would leave us someday, but it was something we never talked about, a reality we simply did not want to accept. 

"Even with his slowly dwindling health, Splinter's spirit never wavered. He was still our master-- our teacher and father, and that he would be until the day he died. He didn't allow us to slack in our studies and practices. Although he acknowledged our adulthood, he urged us to press on, to introduce ourselves to new and bolder challenges. _'There is always something new to learn and experience, my sons.'_ he used to say. _'Do not close your minds to knowledge. Instead, open yourselves to the world around you. Invite new challenges. Seek to overcome that which you previously labeled impossible.'_

"And for the next few years, we did just that--each in our own way. Most days, everyone showed up for practice as Master Splinter requested. We sparred in the old style, but began to throw in our own self-conjured techniques and surprises to try to catch one another off guard. In our spare time, we began to follow our separate paths. We were adults now, after all, and none of us had really gotten much chance for a personal life. This was our time to truly discover ourselves. 

"Leonardo spent at least eight hours every day engrossed in katas and practice, striving ever harder to become more like our master, to perfect his skills to the highest level possible. During what he considered his free time, he taught others this skill--usually April or even Shadow. Then there were the rare times, when he set his weapons aside to try his hand at something new. April and Mike decided it would be a good idea to try to teach him how to cook. Too bad they started with a Thanksgiving dinner instead of something simple like scrambled eggs." Don shook his head and smiled. "Not only was the kitchen a disaster, but we had to order take-out Chinese that year. And do you know how hard it is to find a place open on Thanksgiving? 

"Once his role as Shredder was behind him, Raphael returned to stalking the streets after dark, on his nightly vigils with Casey. After Casey lost his job at the grocery store, he decided he no longer wanted to work for someone else. He and Raph opened an auto repair service together. For once in his life, Raphael seemed genuinely happy about doing work. The business turned out to be rather successful, and it brought in some much needed cash. Raphael kept a portion of his share, but the rest he contributed to Splinter to use for food and other necessities as he saw fit. For the first time in our lives, we no longer had to depend on April, and that felt really good. But even with all of his success, there was still that underlying tension between him and Leo. 

But I get ahead of myself... 

"Michaelangelo was full of creative talent. He spent much of his alone time writing, and at times drawing. He wrote for hours on end, pouring his emotions and desires into poetry and stories. During the bad times, his writing allowed him to escape reality, if even only for a little while. It was his creative outlet, a chance for him to express all the buried pain he was so reluctant to share with the rest of us. His stories were good too. They had an underlying poetic quality that could hold me entranced for hours on end. I never knew he could be so intellectual, yet so witty and insightful. His plots made me honestly feel for the characters and all they went through, and I found myself hoping that they would overcome the obstacles that were set before them." Don smiled and glanced around the room. "I still have a copy of his first published novel somewhere. Perhaps I should look for it. I am certain I could learn something from it, even now. 

"When he wasn't writing or cooking or making us laugh, he was spending his time the way he loved most; with children. He went out in the evenings, looking for runaways to befriend. They reminded him so much of himself and all we had suffered while growing up. Poverty was not an easy thing, and now that he had money, he decided to share some of it with those less fortunate. I really admired him for that. Mike was always so selfless. There was one boy--Damien, that he took a particular shining to. Damien was only eight years old, but he had a good head on his shoulders. He was far smarter than most boys his age, and he carried himself with a sense of non-malicious pride. They became friends instantly, Michaelangelo almost immediately filling the role of surrogate father to the kid. He visited Damien almost nightly, bringing him food, filling his head with fantastical stories, and playing games. Mike was definitely in his element, and for the first time in a long while, he was truly happy again. 

"Of course, there was also Sara. They only dated for a short time, but I must admit, there was an air of jealousy that hung around our heads during that time. Sure, she was naive and moderately irritating, but I think she truly cared about Mike. I had often wondered what it would be like to be with a woman--to share that kind of intimacy that Mike seemed to have with Sara, but I never voiced my curiosity. 

"Instead, I focused my attention on my studies. I also spent much time on the computer. I joined an email list where I met some on-line friends. It was amazing to me how open I could be there, without any prejudice or scrutiny. They had no idea what I looked like, or what I was, and I could state my opinion without being judged. It was an exhilarating feeling to say the least, though I couldn't help but wonder how they would have reacted to me had they known I was different. 

"The early-idea stages of an online business came into fruition as well. Like Mike, I wanted to help people. I wanted to make some kind of a difference. Only years later, after I'd perfected my studies on mitosis, did I finally figure out exactly how intense that difference would become. 

"Splinter's teachings did not stop there. For he was still the sensei, and we the students. We were forever learning, forever changing under his guidance. Religion played a significant role in those final years of teaching. We discussed several different religions, and Splinter seemed to encompass many of them when he spoke. He wanted us to choose the path we found most fitting for ourselves. He taught us about the ways of the Buddha...the Noble Eightfold Path. We learned about the importance of renunciation--to set our pleasures aside and focus on the needs of others. He spoke of forgiving our allies, of making peace instead of waging war. Only then, would we find happiness and be truly pure of mind." 

_Pure of mind..._ Donatello thought sarcastically. "I really don't think _any_ of us were listening too closely to Splinter's teachings on _that_ one." 

********

"A couple of months before Raph and Casey opened the auto shop, something happened that would change Raphael's life. It was the last time he would ever wear the armor of our arch-nemesis. He only talked about it afterward a few times, and always in bits and pieces. We had to coax out of him what little information he was willing to provide, but as time went on, I was able to create a mental timeline of the downfall of his reign as the Shredder. 

"It was already dark when he journeyed to his compound that night, but he wasn't alone. A small group of ninja had invaded his headquarters and attacked without question. Raphael fought them single-handedly, and it was only a matter of minutes before he was the only one left standing. He then faced the two leaders of the group. They told him that they were two of the council of five who ruled the Foot in Japan. They also informed him that Karai was no longer on the council whatsoever. She had made a great mistake and had lost much face." Donatello sighed. "I'm still at a loss as to how Leo could have let that happen. It was so unlike him to be so careless and irresponsible. When I first heard about his lack of self control, I finally had to admit to myself that he was not always as perfect as he'd appeared. 

"The men had come to test Raphael to see if he was fit to be the New York branch's new leader. They congratulated him for defeating four of their best men, even told him that they would gladly welcome our entire clan to join them. But there was one thing left to be resolved. Pimiko had returned to claim her father's role as the new Shredder. A battle was to take place. The one who came out the victor would be rewarded with the armor and position. 

"After they bowed and faced off, the fight began immediately. Pimiko seemed to have the upper hand. She wasted no time in attacking Raphael. She kicked him in the face, the carapace, the plastron. But Raphael would not be defeated so easily. He stabbed a sai into her shoulder, carving a deep cut that claimed first blood. Still, Pimiko refused to give up the fight. While his attention was diverted, she stabbed him with a dagger that sunk deep into the flesh of his shoulder. Even her hair was a weapon, and she used it to hurl him across the room, where he landed in a pile of chairs. She announced her victory, but the Foot leaders opposed her. As long as Raphael was still breathing, he remained a threat. 

"As Pimiko advanced for the kill, Raphael found a new surge of energy. Without warning, he rose suddenly and broke a chair over her. Then, seeing that she was weakened and startled, he delivered a hard downward kick to her leg that sent her to the floor. He'd known all along that he didn't want to kill her, perhaps only disgrace her. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted his weapon, but instead of beheading her, he chopped off the long ponytail, almost to the roots. He then announced that the fight was over. He could have killed her right then and there if he'd wanted to, and he didn't. He even confessed that there was much they could learn from one another. The Foot leaders had different plans in mind, however. 

_'Our decision is that she dies. **Kill her!'**_

_'No. And **my** decision is that you bloodthirsty clowns can clear out and go back to Japan and run your own Foot Clan. I don't know why I ever thought I needed your permission to run the Foot Clan here in New York. I saved it, I rebuilt it from nothing and I give the orders here. Get out or **my** Foot will give you the boot.'_

Hearty laughter filled the hall. _'**Your** Foot?'_ the shorter man asked. _'We'll see who they take orders from. **KILL HIM!** Kill the turtle!'"_

Donatello sighed. "All of his men...every single one of them...betrayed him. He wanted so much to believe that the rest of us were wrong. He was so determined to show us that the Foot could be more loyal than even his own brothers. He thought he could turn them into an organization of honor, but instead, it turned out that the Foot would never be anything more than evil. Greed and lust for power is what motivated them, and that would never change. I had great sympathy for Raphael. He'd tried so hard to succeed in this, to prove to our sensei that he really _could_ do all he'd said he would, but all he was met with was failure." 

********

"I'm not entirely sure _what_ happened to Pimiko after that...it's almost like she vanished altogether. A long time passed before any of us heard--" 
    
    ^^PIMIKO...FILE NUMBER TWO TWO FOUR SEVEN...^^

"What's this?" Donatello asked cautiously. "Something I haven't seen before...?" 
    
    ^^FILE NUMBER TWO TWO FOUR SEVEN IS A VIDEO CLIP FROM--^^

Don rubbed his hands together anxiously. "Play it." 

An unfamiliar scene sparked to life. The tiles at Don's feet disappeared, and he was now standing in something cold and sludgy. Darkness surrounded him. The only source of illumination was a crack in the bricks above his head. As the stream of artificial light fell to the murky water and stained cement below, he quickly recognized the home he'd left so many years ago. A sinking feeling tugged at his heart. He was homesick--not only for that place he knew so well, but for a time when he and his brothers were still together, when their futures hadn't yet been determined. 

_"This way..."_ Raphael said quietly. _"Just a little further..."_

Donatello watched in shocked silence. Raphael was leading Pimiko all the way to their underground lair. They'd abandoned the mausoleum months previous, after the location had been disclosed first by Pimiko herself, and later the government. It seemed an abomination, a betrayal on his brother's part to expose her once again to their new home. They'd already had to move twice because of her. This impulsive decision put all of their lives in great danger. Even though Pimiko was wounded, the knowledge of their secret location would not go unannounced if he allowed her to leave. Of that, Donatello was certain. 

Pimiko dreaded the idea of accepting help from one of the turtles, especially this one. She despised Raphael with an intensity she herself couldn't quite explain. All she knew was that he had disgraced her, more than once. He'd called her names, made lewd comments about her attire, even bad-mouthed her in front of her kunoichi, but this last time was the worst of it. Her head ached from where he'd brutally chopped off her hair. What was worse was the injury to her wounded ego. Her shoulder was bleeding rather heavily from the sai wound, but her leg was worst of all. She could barely walk on it now, the pain she'd fought so hard to ignore threatened to totally overcome her. 

There was something about the turtle's demeanor that had changed as of late. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew she didn't trust it. Why was he helping her anyway? There was no reason he should show her concern of any kind. 

He led her to the training room and helped her lower herself to the mats. He worked in silence, avoiding eye contact while he gathered up spare masks and elbow pads, and other assorted gear. 

Pimiko glared at him curiously. _"Don't tell me you intend to make me fight? You know I haven't the strength to--"_

_"No."_ He answered coolly. _"But I can't have you escaping either. What would happen if I turned my back on you and you were loose?"_

Pimiko said nothing, but focused her attention on the opposite wall as Raphael tied the bandanas and other paraphernalia around her wrists. He then secured the bindings to a water pipe in the wall, just above her head. He figured that on a good day, she could easily break free of these confines, but her injuries had left her severely weakened. Besides, if she did manage to get loose, there would be nowhere for her to run. Her leg injury wouldn't allow it. 

He knelt before her with a sponge and some gauze, his dark eye finally falling on her masked face. She avoided the intense gaze, that eye penetrating into her like a knife. He was scrutinizing her, but she was determined not to let him intimidate her. 

_"So, what do you look like under that mask?"_ His voice had an unreadable quality to it. 

She swallowed, still willing herself not to make eye contact. Raphael stared at her for a long moment. _"Maybe you look like a freak, huh? Maybe we're not so different after all...?"_ There was still no answer, so he moved in closer. He stared at her eyes, the only feature not hidden under the disguise, and wrung out the sponge. He gripped her arm, a little too tightly perhaps, and moved it so the back of her shoulder was facing him, her wrists crossed at an uncomfortable angle in the binds. She let out a gasp as he dabbed the deep cut with the sponge. 

Raphael leaned over her and continued to clean the wound. _"Hurts, don't it?"_ He was close enough that she could feel his breath on the side of her face. 

_"I can take it."_

_"Well good. I'd hate to think that one little bitsy owie could overcome an all-powerful female ninja."_

Was he ridiculing her? Was this his attempt at sweet talk? No matter either way. She wasn't about to play his games. 

_"I saved your life, you know. You should be thanking me."_

Enraged, she couldn't help but protest. _"Bah! You only did so to save face. You saw it as another test. But you failed that one, didn't you? You should have killed me when you had the chance!"_

Raphael picked up one of his sai and held in near her head. _"I have the chance now. You're too wounded and weak to fight me. Tell me, Pimiko, should I do it? Do you wish for death?"_

She turned her head away and said nothing. The silence lingered for what seemed like an eternity, and then Raphael finally lowered the weapon. He returned his attention to the slice at her shoulder. 

_"You know..."_ He said as he began to bandage the wound. _"I meant what I said back there. Ain't it ironic? The thought of you and me actually becoming allies? It's almost as crazy as Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker when they sorta saved each other at the end. Only I ain't your father. I just sorta looked like him when I wore the armor."_

_"The armor which you will never wear again!"_ She spat. _"You had no right to it anyway. It belonged to Saki. He was the true leader of the Foot Clan, just as I should be now. Face it, you were never cut out to be a leader! You have no spine! No wonder they betrayed you!"_

Something cold and metal pressed into Pimiko's neck, silencing her at once. Raphael stared at her coldly, the fire in his eye telling her he'd had just about enough. 

He lowered the sai after a few uncomfortable moments and moved away from her. She watched in silence as he opened a cooler and pulled out a gold colored can--beer from the looks of it. She heard the familiar crack-fizz as the can was opened. He brought it to his lips and took a long drink. She watched desperately, miserable with thirst. 

_"I didn't bring you here to fight, Pimiko. I could have killed you by now if that's what I'd wanted. I brought you here to help you, and you repay me with ridicule."_

Pimiko said nothing as he downed the rest of the can and reached in for another. It was only after he finished two more that he spoke again. _"The Foot Clan is behind me. It's old news."_ She noticed that his demeanor had changed. He seemed less guarded, more laid back, and his voice had the slightest hint of a slur. _"They've chosen their side, and now I'm gonna have to live with that. Too bad though. I thought maybe they'd finally learned something of honor, but unfortunately, they're just as wicked as they were under Saki's leadership. Maybe I'm the fool for thinking I could change em, eh?"_

She wanted to tell him where he could go for bad-mouthing her father, but she kept quiet. Another confrontation would not do her any good in the condition she was in. He reached in for another can, and Pimiko eyed it warily. What she wouldn't do for a good cold drink right now. As Raphael sipped the beer, he noticed her intent stare, and couldn't help but grin to himself. 

_"You want some?"_

Pimiko said nothing. Admitting her desperation only made her vulnerable. Raphael moved toward her, the can outstretched. _"I asked you if you want some."_

Still, no answer. 

He stared at her for a moment, with the same intensity he had as he tied her binds. She looked away indignantly. 

_"You're thirsty, aren't you?"_ He held the can closer to her face and she could smell the yeasty aroma of the liquor. God, how she wanted to take a drink. She tried her best to resist as Raphael lifted the can to her lips, but the mere idea of something cold and wet in her throat seized her protests. She tilted her head forward, pressing her lips against the cool rim of the can. Raphael grinned and tilted it for her, and she drank greedily through the thin fabric of the mask. 

Once the can was empty, he tossed it to the side and opened another one for himself. _"I should have known the Foot would never be loyal."_ He mumbled. _"They don't have it in them."_ His eyes burned into her as he said the last part. _"Oroku Saki never taught them anything about honor."_

Pimiko felt her blood begin to boil. How _dare_ he say such things? Then again, what if he was right? She had never met the man of whom he spoke. Could it be true that he really was as vile and dishonorable as Raphael said? Still, she refused to believe it. 

_"My father **was** the Foot Clan."_ She spat. _"And you...you thought you could just waltz in there and take over the legacy that he so bravely--"_

_"His 'legacy' as you call it, was one of murder and theft. They were true ninja by definition only--and the worst kind of assassins. They had no conscience, no honor. And it seems...neither do you."_

Pimiko began to protest, but Raphael didn't let her say much. 

_"Tell me, Pimiko...would you have spared my life back there? You were going to kill me, weren't you? And yet, you talk of honor and bravery. If I had been smart, I probably **would** have ended your life. Nothing good has ever come from Oroku Saki."_

The words bit into her. She glared into his eye, challenging him. _"Then why are you helping me? Why not kill me now and get it over with? It's what you want, isn't it?"_

Raphael's face contorted into what she perceived as anger. He moved swiftly toward her, his hands resting on her throat. She stifled a gasp and glared at him, waiting for the moment when his grip would tighten. But it didn't. Instead, his hands moved up to the fold in the fabric just below her chin, and before she could protest, the mask was pulled from her head. The short chopped hair fell like rain to frame her face. Raphael stared at her for a long time, his breathing ragged and heavy. Disgraced yet again, she turned her head and lowered her eyes. Never had an enemy seen her face. In fact, very few of her allies knew what she looked like behind the concealment of the disguise. 

_"Don't tell me what I want."_ He said at last. His voice was gentle, but serious. _"You have no idea."_

He rose again and grabbed another can. As he downed it, his gaze never left her. Pimiko was becoming more and more uneasy. It was clear the turtle was drunk, and she was beginning to feel some of the effects of the alcohol as well. What would he do to her if he kept drinking like that? It was clear he had trouble controlling his anger when he was sober. 

_"I have to admit,"_ he said at last. _"You ain't half as bad as I pictured."_

Pimiko wanted desperately to avoid his gaze, but something held her there. The anger in his face had slipped away and was now replaced by something she couldn't quite decipher. It looked like a mixture of calm and anxiety. Whatever it was, it didn't fill her with any more confidence than the rage had. 

Indeed, her features were remarkable. She had Saki's mouth, even the same cheekbones, though not quite as chiseled. But it was her eyes that held his attention, and indeed Donatello's, as well. They were clearly Asian, no doubt about that, but what could not be seen under the shadow of the mask was how light a shade of brown they were. 

Raphael realized he'd been staring a little too long, and immediately looked away. He fidgeted with a new can, finally opening it, and strode toward her. _"You want another one?"_

Giving in to her nagging thirst, she nodded, and gratefully accepted the can as it was pressed to her lips. She drank slower this time, savoring the taste of the liquor. It had been a long while since she'd had the opportunity for a beer or alcohol of any kind. In fact, it had been several hours since she'd eaten last, and her stomach was starting to complain. 

He remained on his knees next to her, watching intently as she finished off the can. His gaze was penetrating into her again, and she could hardly stand it. She had to divert his attention somehow, otherwise, she would go nuts. 

_"You never answered me."_ She said softly. 

_"Hmmm?"_

_"Why are you helping me?"_

He set the can down, but didn't waver his gaze. Up close like this, Pimiko got a chance to see his features clearly for the first time. His left eye was patched as usual, and his right eye, though it seemed unearthly dark, was actually a light shade of gray with flecks of dark violet. Very unusual... 

His skin was leathery like a reptile's, but appeared to be smoother. She found herself wishing her hands were free so she could discover how soft it was for herself... 

She shook her head. What on earth was she thinking!? She realized he was still staring at her with that unnerving little grimace on his wide mouth. 

_"Because..."_ he said almost inaudibly. _"Like I said...there is much we can learn from one another."_

He brought his face closer to hers, and she was suddenly entranced with that one, piercing, gray eye. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. How come she hadn't noticed it sooner? His voice went on, almost a distant echo in her head. 

_"So much more than ninja skills."_

Through the haze, a warning signal went off in Pimiko's head, and she suddenly flinched, coming back to reality. Raphael's face was dangerously close to hers, his beer-tainted breath falling on her cheek. She gasped and leaned away from him. 

_"Get off of me!"_

She found her uninjured leg and shoved him with it as hard as she could. 

He staggered back onto his knees just a little, watching her intently. She thought he would get angry, but instead, a curious grin spread across his face. _"What was that for?"_

_"You know damn well what that was for! Stay away from me!"_

He continued to stare at her in silence, almost scrutinizing her. Pimiko pulled on the bindings in her wrists, but it was no use. They wouldn't budge. 

_"Splinter taught me how to tie good knots."_ His face remained unreadable. 

She said nothing, only glared at him. 

_"Good thing too. I can't have you running off on me."_

_"So you expect to keep me here? Am I to remain your prisoner forever?"_

_"Not forever...just as long as I can manage."_

Pimiko didn't like the sound of that. 

As she turned her head from him again, he rested his fingers against her jaw, and very gently ran them down toward her chin. A shiver ran through her. She tried not to look into that gray abyss again, struggled to keep her guard up, but she found it disturbingly hard to look away. Embracing her jaw in his hand, he turned her head until their eyes met. She saw an intensity there that she hadn't yet seen, a slight quivering at the corners of his mouth that made it hard to decipher whether he looked more like a predator seizing a long sought meal, or a lost puppy. 

Slowly, he moved toward her again, his eye penetrating into hers. She felt woozy, almost nauseated from the alcohol, yet she struggled to retain her grip on reality. His ragged breath was on her face again, the piercing gray eye getting dangerously close. She had to look away... 

She closed her eyes, and before she knew it, something warm and hard was covering her mouth. She didn't push him away this time, but relaxed under him, the alcohol finally winning over her better judgement. 

Raphael sank into her, his mouth covering hers. His breath came in short, heavy gasps as he caressed her face, her shoulders, her back. As his hands continued down Pimiko's body, Donatello froze, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, staring in shock at the scene before him. Raphael continued his antics as Donatello fought to get his jaw to work to mouth his protest. His voice was lost somewhere, deep inside his throat. 

_God...I never even imagined..._

As the empty cans were knocked over and scattered across the dojo floor, Donatello finally found his voice. 

"Ch...Chet..." 

Another disruption of empty cans. 

"Chet--freeze program! Dammit, I said freeze the fucking program!" 
    
    ^^AS YOU WISH, DONATELLO^^

The scene halted abruptly, with Raphael about to undo some of Pimiko's clothing. He quickly looked away. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest, and he finally let out a gasp as he emptied his lungs of the breath he'd been holding for God knew how long now. 

"Delete the file." he managed. "I don't ever want to look at this again."

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER SIX**

  


  


_I would say that the blame is mine  
But I suspect it's something worse  
The more my brother looks like me,  
The less I understand  
The silent war that bloodied both our hands  
Sometimes at night, I think I understand_

It's brother to brother and it's man to man  
And it's face to face and it's hand to hand...  
We shadowdance the silent war within  
The shadowdance, it never ends...   
Never ends, never ends  
Shadowboxing the Apocalypse, yet again...  
Yet again

"My Brother Esau" - Grateful Dead 

  


  
**_The Right Speech..._**  
_"I can't believe you, Raphael! Look at this mess! Look at what you've done!"_

_"Get off my back, Leo! It's none of your business!" _

"Like hell! What if Splinter had come in here, huh? What then? Maybe I should go tell him? Inform him that one of his sons has betrayed us and now our lives are in danger? I'm sure that would go over **real** well..." 

"Look who's talking..." 

"What...?" 

"You heard me. I said, look who's talking! Oh, wait--maybe Pimiko's the only one off limits. It's okay to have your way with Karai because she was a person of power. Top dog with the Foot Clan and all that shit. Or maybe the favorite son gets special privileges. Is that it? No, wait, don't tell me...Karai gave you **money** to sleep with her--" 

"Raphael, shut up!" 

"Make me!" 

Leonardo growled, his face twisting up in a mask of anger. He'd had just about enough of Raphael's sarcastic stubbornness, and he was more than fed up with all of their constant fighting. _"Don't make me turn this into something ugly, Raph..."_

Raphael was silent for a brief moment as the rage continued to flare up inside of him. The anger burned so intensely, he felt as though he might explode. 

_"Pimiko is the enemy, Raphael! Don's a cyborg, and your face was fried because of her. And we almost lost Splinter for godsake!" _

"Look Leo, you don't understand what went on between the two of us. I was **trying** to establish peace between us..." 

"Looks like your tactics were a little strong..." 

"No stronger than **yours** it seems..." 

"What happened between Karai and I is none of your business!" 

"Then maybe you should stay out of **my** business, Leo! You're always sticking your beak where it doesn't belong. **That's** the real reason why Karai can no longer lead the Foot. She's been disgraced because of you! Hmmm...I guess you weren't exactly skilled in that department, huh? Maybe some of her superiors found out and--" 

"Shut up, Raph!" 

He could see Leonardo's chest heaving, even through the thickness of the plastron. _Good,_ he smiled to himself. _I struck a nerve._

Leonardo took several deep breaths before he was composed enough to finish the conversation. When he finally began to speak again, his body was a reflection of calm and control. Inside, however, he was raging. 

_"Look Raph, you can't possibly compare the two. Karai was an honorable ally. We were all fighting for the same cause!"_ He took another breath, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. _"At least she meant something to me. Pimiko...god, Raph, what the hell were you thinking?"_

Now it was Raphael's turn to get defensive. _"How the hell do you know what Pimiko does or doesn't mean to me? I don't have to explain myself to you! It's **my** business. Anyway, it's over now, okay? We'll probably never see her again..." _

"I can't believe you let her go!" Leo practically screamed. The intensity of the moment seemed to overweigh the calm control he was trying so hard to maintain. _"Now she knows where we live. Again. She could come back with reinforcements, and Splinter's too weak to--" _

"She ain't coming back here." Raphael insisted. _"She has no reason to. She has no one to back her up now. The kunoichi are long gone, the Foot have been taken over. It's over, Leo. It's done with, and no one else even knows she was here!" _

"She better not show her face here, Raph." Leo moved so close to him, their beaks were almost touching. Raphael could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. _"Cuz if she does, I'll kill her myself, and I'll tell Master Splinter what happened here, how you put all of our lives at risk." _

Raphael shoved him hard. He staggered backward, barely avoiding a nasty fall._ "Get outta my face, Leo." _

The strong aroma of liquor invaded Leonardo's senses, and a choke tightened in his throat. The creases in his forehead deepened as his anger continued to rise. _"God, Raph...how many beers did you **drink**!?"_ He glanced around the room at the cans again. He counted at least a dozen scattered here and there, all of which were empty. _"You're **drunk,** aren't you!? Dammit, Raph! When the hell are you gonna stop hiding behind that friggin' bottle, grow some balls and learn to face life?"_

Raphael was getting dangerously close to the breaking point. _"Lay off, Leo!" _

"No. It's about time you learned some responsibility for your actions. You need to GROW UP, Raph! Life can't always be--" 

"Me? What about you, 'Mr. Perfect'? You think you're above making mistakes? Let me tell you something...**BROTHER**...you ain't the boss around here. Splinter's still with us. And I'll be **damned** if I let you tell me what I can or can't do with **MY** life!" 

"Raph..." 

"You know what your problem is, Leo? You're too damn full of yourself!" 

Raphael knew he could stand to be here no longer. He had to get free of this room. He knew things were bound to turn physical if he didn't end this now, and in his present state, he wasn't ready to face the consequences if they did. 

Leo attempted to voice a comeback, but it was too late. Before he could speak a single word, Raphael swept haughtily past him and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving a startled Leonardo alone with his thoughts. 

A moment later, everything went dark. 

The scene quickly faded, and the room was shrouded with light. Donatello squinted in the brightness as the tiled floor and the oriental paintings on the walls slowly came into focus again. What was moments before his old sewer den in New York vanished, and he found himself standing in the middle of his living room in present Japan. He was alone again, and for the first time in a very long while, he was thankful for that fact. 

"Is that it, Chet?" He asked quietly. 
    
    ^^END OF FILE^^

"I see." 

Donatello strolled around the house aimlessly, his mind flooded with many thoughts at once. He tried to block out the most painful ones, those of fighting and arguing, but there were so many of them, it almost seemed like that was all he had left to hold onto. A tear escaped as he struggled to find a happy memory...just _one_ good time in all of the chaos. 

Visions of slamming doors, angry voices, and tear stained faces continued to flash, one after the other, almost like a movie reel. He wished it _was_ only a movie, but this had been his life for the last five years he was in New York. It pained him to think that the last time he ever saw his brothers was under these conditions. 

More painful memories came--lying, slandering, fists meeting flesh...it was just too much. And for all the time and all the energy Donatello put into keeping these moments buried, it was no use. They would always be there, and sooner or later, he would be forced to look them in the eye. With a tormenting acceptance, he decided that he could no longer endure this torture. The time had come to face his fears head on. 

He sat in a lotus position on the floor and closed his eyes, giving in to the haunting darkness. There was something in the back of his mind, an image that had been fighting to break free. He concentrated on that ugly place, and all at once, like a bad dream, the memory came to him. 

_It was the middle of the night. Most of the world had gone to sleep hours ago, but not the underground inhabitants of the sewer. There was an electricity in the air, like the warning of an approaching storm. Only, this time it wasn't an effect of Mother Nature. There was a much more intense force at work. _

Donatello was laying on his cot--the same bed he'd slept in all his life. But tonight, he couldn't relax. A nagging thought of doom continued to plague him where he lay. Something wasn't right. He sprawled out motionless on the mattress, listening to the darkness around him. Before long, the silence turned to voices. He couldn't make out what was being said, but it sounded like an argument. Sighing, he threw back the covers and crept to the living area to see what the commotion was about **this** time. 

Raphael was standing near the door. He had on a pair of oversized sweat pants that were stretched over the width of his shell, and was currently reaching for his coat. Michaelangelo stood near him, unclothed, Klunk purring gleefully and rubbing himself against his ankles. 

"But, Raph..." Mike was pleading. He looked exhausted. 

"Mike, lay off, all right? This is something I have to do." 

"But--" 

"It's their fault. All of this. The Foot will pay. And I have to go alone. I can't have you tagging along and messing this up." 

"But, you're still not healed, Raph. You...you shouldn't even be up walking around so much. And those stitches..." He moved closer to check a bandage at Raphael's shoulder. Raph nudged him away and stuck his arm through the sleeve. 

"Stop, Mike, okay? Just...stop." 

Mike stared at him for a long moment, his entire face a mask of concern. He knew Raph was in no condition for battle, neither physically nor emotionally. Over the past month, he saw behavior in his brother that ranged from aggressive to passive, angry to fearful, happy to depressed in only a matter of minutes. These kinds of erratic changes were unusual, even for Raph. And the fact that he could smell alcohol on his breath didn't help to calm his nerves any. 

Raphael finished buttoning the coat. He tied the bandana securely around his eyes and reached for a hat. "I don't need you to mother me." He said a little more gently. "I'm fine." 

A look of defeat crossed Mike's face. Raphael did his best to ignore it as he finished getting dressed and reached for his sai. 

Finally, something inside Mike stirred to life. "I know I can't make you stay here...but you can't keep me from going either. I'm coming along." 

Raphael looked at him, surprised. "No, Mike. This is dangerous." 

"Brothers stick together." Mike reminded him. "Especially us." 

Raphael let out a deep breath. "What about Master Splinter?" 

His attempt to persuade Mike failed. "Don's here. He can make sure Master Splinter is okay." 

At the mention of his name, Donatello stepped out from the shadows. The light fell on his face, highlighting it at a dramatic angle. "What's going on?" 

Raphael stared at him indignantly. "How long have you been there?" 

"Long enough to know you're up to something. Where are you going?" 

Raphael sighed. "Look, you wouldn't understand." 

"Try me." 

As the two were discussing Raphael's mad plans for vengeance, Mike began to dress very quickly. He was sure that Raphael would try to make a break for it as soon as he got the chance, and he was determined that he wasn't going to let his brother leave the lair tonight alone. 

"Look Don--" Raphael paused. He could see that nothing he was saying had persuaded Donatello in the least. 

"Mike's right, Raph. You shouldn't be going out like this. You need to rest. You've barely begun to stand again in the past few days." 

The pain and anger in Raphael's face was hard to look at. Don could see so many emotions hidden in the fine lines of his frown, so many things that had gone unsaid for so long. 

In a great effort to cover up the unspoken torment that had inadvertently peeked through the surface, Raphael turned his back on them and headed for the door. "Look..." he snapped. "I'm doing this whether you like it or not. Now just leave me alone!" 

With that, Raphael was gone. 

Mike exchanged distressed looks with Don. 

"You'll make sure that Splinter--" 

"I'll take care of it." Don said softly. "And Mike?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Be careful, okay?" 

Donatello blinked as his eyes opened to the harsh light. His face felt hot and flushed, and a sense of dread hung over him like a raincloud. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes, and noticed for the first time that he was crying. 

********

Two hours had passed since that vision with Raphael and Michaelangelo, and he was still finding it difficult to regain his composure. It had taken him a long time to calm down enough to be able to continue speaking. If Chet had possessed human emotions, it would have probably thought to ask him what about the memory upset him so. But of course, Chet was just a machine, and only asked about things when it was triggered to do so. Donatello couldn't decide whether that was more of a blessing or a curse. It was nice to have an opportunity to speak without being pressed to say more than he wished to. On the other hand, he desperately missed the companionship of sentient contact. Chet was a wonderful caregiver, housekeeper and entertainer, but it could never understand what he was going through. 

"It wasn't all bad..." he said at last. He took a deep breath and made a final swipe over his dampened eyes. "There were good times too...lots of good times. God, I just wish I could remember some of them..." 

He glanced around the room, which was actually quite large for the traditional style of the architecture, and something slowly dawned on him. Mike's book! There _had_ to be a happy memory in there! He rose to his feet and hurried to the bookshelf. It spanned the entire east wall, and was filled from floor to ceiling with every genre of literature imaginable-- from biology books to C.S. Lewis. He scanned the collection diligently, his eyes traveling back and forth at such speed, one wouldn't have thought he could even know what he was looking at, but he knew exactly what he was hoping to find, and he had a good idea now of what it might look like. 

Somewhere near the bottom of the case, just as he was starting to get discouraged, a small book caught his eye. He slid it from its place carefully and blew the dust from the worn cover. He could barely make out the word 'Brothers' etched in silver on the blue binding. Just that single word staring solemnly back at him sent a shock through him that was so intense, he wanted to scream. Cautiously, he very slowly opened the cover. He wasn't sure what he expected to find within those pages, but before he could pursue it further, a fear gripped him so suddenly, he accidentally dropped the book. 

When he scooped it back up, he noticed that the yellowed contents were open to page fifty-four. He had a nagging feeling that he didn't want to hear the words that were typed on the thin pages, but something compelled him to explore them anyway. He read aloud, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he gripped the book. 

_"A wedding...what a glorious occasion! We gathered around the happy couple shouting words of congratulations and condolences. The latter was for May. It was a joke really--now that she was marrying Carl, her life was over. _

Everyone began to speak at once, and suddenly, I was no longer standing in that desolate, dark place we called home. Instead, I found myself in an elaborate chapel. Flowers surrounded me on all sides, and hundreds of smiling faces filled the pews around me. Music was playing--a song so beautiful it almost brought tears to my eyes. God, I couldn't wait for the day to arrive! 

As the scenes in my head faded, I couldn't help but smile. And when I looked at May and Carl, I could see their happiness and devotion. It seemed though, that with all the talk of when and where and who, my brothers and I were even more excited than they were." 

Don set the book down and shut his eyes for a moment, lost in the memory. 

"Mike was right." He said at last. "For a while, I thought that April and Casey's wedding could be the turning point that would bring us all closer together. I only wish it would have been. Mike wanted so much for it to be so." 

********

_"Hey, be careful with that thing, huh? It was expensive." _

"Oh, you didn't even pay for it, Raph, so quit your nagging. I know how to work it." 

"Fine. But you break it, you bought it, Mikey." 

Michaelangelo stepped in front of the camera and brought his face really close to the lens. He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, making one of the most ridiculous faces Donatello had ever seen. He backed away grinning, then hurried off screen to help Casey and his brothers. 

Raphael and Don stepped into the camera's view. They were dressed in black coats. Raphael's expression was one of hidden terror. 

"We don't have much time." Don was saying. 

Raphael took a deep breath. His face was the palest of greens, and he appeared to be perspiring rather profusely. 

"Raph?" 

"Huh?" 

"You gonna be okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah...I'll be fine..." He dried his forehead with the back of his hand and followed Donatello toward the hallway. 

The scene went dark, but was replaced seconds later by a new one. The camera had been moved, and was now filming the chapel. 

"Halloween..." Don sighed. "What a great time to get married..." 

_The chapel was filled with guests--most of whom had decided to get into the spirit and come in costume. This had been a great idea as far as the turtles were concerned. Now they could take part and no one would be the wiser. Mike had thought up the whole idea. April wasn't too sure about it at first, but with a little persuasion, she had been convinced that she owed it to them. _

Against his better judgement and all of his pleading to the contrary, Casey had come as Prince Charming. He'd tried to persuade the guys to dress as dwarves, but Raphael had absolutely refused. He did joke, however, that Michaelangelo should go as Dopey. Mike, of course, didn't let that one slip by without a comeback. "I'd rather be Dopey and nice than Grumpy and mean..." "Hey, I'm not mean, I'm letting you borrow my camcorder, aren't I?" 

The turtles stood to Casey's left, first Raph, then Mike, Don and Leo. Of course, they all shared a snicker over Casey's white tights. When Mike glanced at the turtle to his right, it was a real struggle not to burst into laughter. Raphael looked more nervous than Casey did. His brother shot him a warning sideways glare, but otherwise remained motionless. Mike wasn't sure if he did so out of respect for the wedding, or if he was indeed frozen with fear. Leo and Don stood with quiet composure, eyeing the audience of guests a bit uncomfortably. Leo exchanged glances with Don. In his eyes was a hint of wariness and apprehension. He hadn't exactly jumped at the idea of exposing themselves to a room full of humans. Still, he did it for April, and maybe a small part of him did it for Mike as well. 

April's sister, Robyn came down the isle, dressed like a fairy-tale princess. Her gown was long and flowing, and she wore a long pointy hat, from which trailed a flowing tail of silk. It was the first time any of them had ever seen Robyn, and Don had decided right then and there that she was beautiful. Shadow and Robyn's son Trevor were the flowergirl and ring bearer. They were old enough not to cause too much of a scene, except for when Trevor accidentally stepped on Shadow's gown, which made her trip in the isle, and the consequential smack to Trevor's head with the flower basket. 

When April appeared, the room was suddenly so quiet, Raphael could hear himself breathe. All present gazed at her, entranced. She couldn't have possibly been any more beautiful. Her long dark hair was tied back and piled up on her head in curls, and her costume made her look more lovely than Snow White. Mike let out an unbridled gasp, and Raphael smiled and elbowed him. 

"The wedding was wonderful, and it was over before I knew it. The ceremony proceeded smoothly, until the moment when Raphael nearly dropped the ring. God, was he nervous. I'd never seen him that way before. This, of course, sent Mike into a snickering fit. One of my elbows meeting the side of his ribs seemed to quiet him down relatively quickly though. Once Raphael managed to hand the ring to Casey, he slipped it on April's finger, they said a few more vows, and before long, they were pronounced husband and wife." 

Don smiled. The memories were returning to him as he watched the couple hurry down the isle while vampires and clowns and mutant turtles threw rice at them. 

"That was a great day." His grin broadened. "We hadn't been that happy in a long time. It seemed like the turning point in our lives. Maybe, somehow, their wedding would bring us back together again. And it did for a time..." 

The scene wasn't over yet. The chapel in which he'd been standing slowly transformed into a banquet hall which was filled with decorations, people and food. The costumes varied from simple to outlandish, their owners talking excitedly amongst themselves. 

_Robyn sat next to April at the wedding party's table. She was closely scrutinizing the four turtles that sat on the other side of Casey. _

"So...those are the Italian guys you keep telling me about?" 

April smiled and bit her lip. "Yeah...hey guys, can you come here for a minute?" 

As they filed in next to her, Robyn suddenly realized how short they were. 

April pointed to each turtle in turn. "This is Donatello, Michaelangelo, Raphael, and Leonardo. And this--" She pointed to her sister. "is Robyn." 

The turtles greeted her politely. Mike, of course, demonstrated his usual nonchalance by bowing down and kissing her hand. Robyn made a remark about how life-like their costumes were...needless to say, she was quite shocked later when she learned that they weren't costumes at all. 

The DJ was very energetic, and soon the entire room ended up on the dance floor. Raphael and Leonardo took turns dancing with Shadow--after a bit of minor protesting on Raph's part. Casey danced with April, and Mike found a cute little witch to occupy his time. Donatello remained in his chair, fidgeting with the lapels on his coat, and awkwardly watching the festivities. 

"Hey, you look lonely. Wanna dance?" 

"Huh?" He looked up, startled. 

Robyn smiled down at him, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. God, that smile... "Do you want to dance?" 

"Uhhhh...I dunno...I...I'm not a very good dancer..." 

"It's okay...I'll teach you..." 

"No, really..." he said reluctantly. "I have two left feet. I wouldn't want to trip you..." 

"Awww, come on! It'll be fun!" Those bright eyes were irresistible. Just like April's, only a sparkling emerald green. 

Don blushed and rose from his chair shyly. 

He blushed even now as he watched Robyn take his hand in hers and lead him in the dance. "First time I'd ever been that close to a woman. And boy, could she move." 

* * *

"It wasn't long after the wedding...approximately six months, when we noticed that Splinter had been sleeping quite a bit more than usual. When we were children, there was never a time he outslept us. He was up at the crack of dawn every morning, waiting to begin our daily training. But as our childhood innocence faded further and further into the past, so did Splinter's good health and vitality. He rarely rose before ten o' clock, and even after the extra hours of sleep, he still appeared drained. 

"I feared that the inevitable was approaching. Our master had lived a long, and at times, very stress-filled life. We weren't exactly sure how many years his life had spanned as an ordinary rat, but added to the twenty-seven after his mutation, he was getting to be a very old rodent indeed. I'd always believed that no one died before their time. With all of the lives that Splinter had touched, it made sense to me that his days were finally coming to an end. I didn't voice my concerns to the others. They already knew. Still, we carried on as routinely as possible, trying to forget the whole matter. I could not bear the idea of being without him. Although we were adults now, we knew that no matter how old we became, his absence would leave a painful hole in our lives. 

"We banded together and made a pact that we would look out for him. And if anything happened, even the slightest hint of the unusual, we would tell each other immediately. We dedicated ourselves to his protection. We took turns watching and taking care of him, making sure all of his needs were met. No matter what, he would not be left alone in the lair. We agreed that one of us must stay with him at all times. 

"Michaelangelo was very emotional during that time. Just when we had begun to grow closer as a family again, the very center of us all was slowly fading. Splinter was all we had ever known as a parent. We existed because of him. What an odd, vulnerable feeling to know that the mentor we had counted on to always be there would soon cease to exist. A void was already forming in our hearts. Still, we carried on as always, following the lessons as our master instructed us, and keeping an ever watchful eye on him. 

"With emotions at their peak, things inevitably began to heat up again. Leo and Raph took up their petty bickering once more. They argued about things that shouldn't have mattered, and perhaps didn't, even at the time. Leo seemed at a loss. It was the first time in his life that he was unable to eventually find a clear understanding, or to form a viable solution, and it drove him crazy. Raphael's temper was shorter fused than usual, and taunting Leo seemed to be his only release. Mike was remarkably morose, though he tried to maintain a lively demeanor when he knew we were nearby. There were those rare occasions in which he failed miserably, and in so doing, ended up sobbing in Raphael's arms. And despite that hard, outer 'shell' Raphael so carefully guarded himself with, inside, his undeniable softness thrived. At least when Mike was concerned. Perhaps he decided it was about time he return him the favor. 

"Raphael was an unusual pillar of strength for Michaelangelo. This sharp contrast from the predictable was almost eerie. It wasn't easy to decipher whether his newfound gentleness and determination were products of denial, or if he simply grieved differently. The irrefutable fact, however, was that he was indeed suffering. He attempted to hide his pain by drinking, which was undeniably selfish. Still, for personal reasons, I couldn't help but envy him. We'd come to expect such things from him. I, on the other hand, would not be able to get away with such recklessness so easily. 

"In his quest for harmony, Leo was determined to put a stop to Raphael's self-destructive acts. He felt as though Raph simply didn't care any more. He accused him of being an alcoholic, and was convinced that he was unable to control his actions, thus rendering him a danger to us all. 

"Raphael rebelled against Leo's authority. He insisted that he didn't have a problem, and he demanded that Leonardo leave him alone and mind his own business. Leo couldn't do such a thing. It wasn't in his nature. His prying and coaxing only angered Raphael. He told Leo he could take care of himself, that it was his life after all, and what he did with himself shouldn't concern us. 

"Shouldn't have, maybe, but it did..." 

********

"In the midst of uncertainty and despair, a glimmer of hope began to shine through. April and Casey announced that they were going to have a baby. Almost immediately, the demeanor in the very air around us began to change. That day was one of great cheer and celebration. Over the next several months, our spirits lifted as we monitored the growth of April's stomach and argued over names. April herself was absolutely radiant. 

"Robyn came to visit, but she spent most of her time with April, trying to help her prepare for the baby. I don't know at which point April told her the truth about us, but afterward, she was very leery when we were around. 

The nine months passed relatively quickly, and before long, Justin Taylor Jones was born. April had won the name battle. She said it was about time there was a nice, normal name in the family again. I assumed she was referring to Shadow and us. 

Shadow was growing up rapidly. No longer was she the little girl that had idolized her father and begged April to stay up late so she could play video games and eat ice cream with Mike. The adorable little baby doll with the long blond curls was now a beautiful young woman. It was a very delicate stage in her life, and one that I could relate to very well. I'd been a teen once myself. It wasn't easy. In fact, I think that, despite all of the chaos that hit in our twenties, my teenage years were perhaps the most difficult. 

Along with all of the normal adolescent worries--friends, dating, grades, puberty, came the fear of rejection. The new baby required most of April and Casey's precious time. She was worried that Justin would gain all of our affection and she'd be cast to the outside. She'd never needed to worry about that. We loved her as much as we always had. We told her that often. 

Mike made it his mission to spend more time with her. He realized that he'd been neglecting his duties as 'uncle' since he'd met Damien. He'd thought that Shadow was old enough that she wouldn't need as much attention from him, but he discovered quite the opposite. With all that was going on, she was unsure of her place in all of our lives. She needed to feel special again. 

********

"When Mike wasn't busy with Damien, he devoted his evenings to spending time with her. It was difficult to find things to do, seeing as Mike couldn't easily gain access to most of the normal teenage hangouts. However, Shadow appeared content in the knowledge that he cared enough to make time for her. They went for many walks in the early evenings when dusk had just begun to set in, often stopping on a high rooftop to watch the sunset. They would sneak into movie theaters together to watch the late night shows. Mike really cherished this time with her. She was so much fun to be around now that she was old enough to hold meaningful conversations, and stay up past eight o' clock. It seemed Shadow too, really enjoyed the time they spent together, and over the following year, they grew even closer than before. 

"On Shadow's thirteenth birthday, things began to change. It had always been hard for her to make friends--not because she wasn't a friendly and likeable person, but because rumors had gone around about her strange lifestyle and the fact that no one she knew had ever been invited over. It was a confusing and frustrating time for her. She so wanted to be liked, yet at the same time, she refused to act like the other kids expected her to. She felt as though she didn't even know who she really was inside. Fed up with the solitude her fellow classmates bestowed upon her, she became rebellious. 

"To emphasize her protests, she began to spend a lot of time with Raphael. She knew that the idea of the two of them going god-knew-where in the dark of night would do nothing for April's nerves. What made the situation even worse was that a couple of months previous, Casey had found an old motorcycle that he and Raphael began restoration on together in their shop. It still needed a few cosmetic repairs, but the mechanical aspect of the bike was as good as new in no time. So when Shadow asked Raph to take her someplace far away, he had no hesitation. He'd been practically dying to find an excuse to take the motorcycle for a ride. 

"That night was horrific. They hadn't informed anyone of their departure, nor when or _if_ they would be coming back. They'd simply disappeared in the dead of night. They were gone for hours, and when Raphael finally reappeared in the early morning, he and Leonardo had a heated argument." 

_"April was worried sick! You can't just take off with her like that and not tell anyone!" _

"She was fine, Leo. She was with me." 

"Yeah, well...lately, that's not much of a comfort, Raphael." 

"What the hell is that--" 

"You've been drinking way too much lately. Or have you been too wasted to notice? What if you got yourselves into a bad situation, and you were too drunk to deal with it?" 

"Leo, give me some credit, huh? I wouldn't drive around drunk, especially not while Shadow was with me. That would be plain stupid." 

"Despite Raphael's insistences, we were very concerned. When he neglected to take Leonardo's warnings to heart, Splinter got in on the matter. Regardless of what any of us said, Raphael insisted that he could be responsible, and that she was safe with him. He seemed genuinely wounded that we could think him capable of bringing her harm. He wanted us to trust him. 

"He had been slowly sinking deeper into a funk, ever since the loss of the Foot Clan. He didn't take to betrayal easily. Ten years later, the idea of it still continued to haunt him. Yet, there was an anger that stemmed even deeper still. I think he was truly afraid of losing Splinter, and it was eating him up inside. 

"He was becoming like a loose cannon. He found it hard to contain the strong emotions within. His frustration made appearances in acts of reckless self-destructiveness. Occasional bouts of drinking soon became a daily ritual. He jumped from one six pack a day, to three in a matter of weeks. It was beginning to become painfully obvious that Raphael had a problem. It was a rarity to find him sober anymore. He would go off on tangents about the irony of our existence, the bad hand we'd been dealt in life, and what he referred to as 'our crappy place in this world.' He'd stay away for days at a time without contacting us. And we were left to sit at home and worry about whether he was even still alive. I tried to confront him about it once. Believe me, I never did so again. 

"One night, something truly dreadful happened. I have come to realize that that evening alone was the pivotal beginning of the end. Indeed, even now, I suffer from its consequences. It's not a memory I cherish. In fact, it's the one thing I've tried the hardest to forget..." 

_ "Shadow, I said no, and that's final!" _

The girl scowled at April, her hands on her hips. "You can't keep me from going." 

"You want to bet?" 

"It's not fair! You keep telling me how you want me to make more friends, and when I finally have the chance to, you forbid me from it!" 

"Shadow, a weekend at the lake with boys who are older than you is too much. You're only fourteen, and it isn't safe!" 

"Not just boys. Girls are going too, you know. Besides, I know how to protect myself. Why do you think I've been studying with Leo all this time? It certainly wasn't for my health! I hate those practices, but I keep on going so I can get good at it. I can fight almost as good as dad now!" 

"Shadow, honey, I know that you think you can fend off anything that comes your way, and you **have** gotten very good, but your father and I--" 

"You can't tell me what to do..." 

"What?" 

"I said, you can't tell me what to do. You're not my mother!" 

Donatello sighed and lowered his eyes. "Those words bit into her, stinging her like a slap in the face. She was too shocked to keep Shadow from leaving the house. But Shadow didn't go out with her friends that night. Instead, she sought Raphael. 

"In one of his common bouts of depression, Raph had snuck to the shop to be alone. He had already finished a case of beer and was starting on the second when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. He was surprised to see her there, but he ushered her inside. She tried to convince him to share his beer, and when he refused her, she became upset and accused him of being just like April. Raphael, of course, didn't like the implications of being uncool, so he offered to take her out on the bike instead. She told him she wanted to get as far as possible from New York City. At that point, he was up for just about anything. So he started up the motorcycle, and away they went. 

They didn't get very far, however. On the outskirts of town, the effects of the alcohol really began to take their toll. Raph had promised himself that he would never take her out while drunk, and he realized he needed to turn back. Unfortunately for him, his slow reflexes didn't react quickly enough, and he was unable to steer clear of the oncoming car..." 

Donatello paused and stared down at his trembling hands. 

"Everything changed in that moment." he said softly. "Everything." 

* * *

_"Oh-my-god-oh-my-god..." April was the embodiment of shock. _

Casey ushered her quickly down the sterile halls. His arm was slung around her shoulders, gripping her in a tight squeeze. He knew she was weak in the knees, and he was afraid to let her go, lest she fall to the floor. He was trying desperately to be strong for April, but his mind was filled with horror and doubt. What if they would find out the worst? What if Shadow was severely wounded or in a coma, or worse yet...dead? He couldn't bear to think about that possibility. It took a very strong effort, but with a little pushing, he was able to will the thought from his mind. 

No, he told himself, everything's gonna be okay...gotta stay positive... 

Still, he wished he could persuade himself to truly believe that. 

Their shoes squeaked on the linoleum as they hurried past patient rooms and nurses with clipboards. It seemed their search would never end. Just when the fear was about to become paralyzing, he spotted the double doors at the end of the hallway. He pushed April forward, her quiet sobs causing him to shake with nervousness as they neared the entrance. Casey paused and stared at the bright red letters that spelled out 'Intensive Care'. He turned to face her, and April stared up at him. Her face was a mask of pain and guilt. He knew she was blaming herself for this, but it wasn't her fault. He pulled her close, and she melted in his arms. 

"She's gonna be all right, April." 

"But...what if--" 

"Don't even think about it, okay?" He said softly. "No matter what we see in there, we have to keep telling ourselves that everything is going to be all right." 

April nodded weakly. He squeezed her hand tightly, and together, they pushed open the door. 

Don swallowed. "They weren't prepared for what they found in that room. Shadow was covered with cuts and bruises, and the doctors were still in the process of removing the gravel that had embedded itself in her skin. Her face was battered, and the roots of her hair were encrusted with blood. For how horrible she looked, however, she'd sustained relatively minor injuries. 

"A sprained ankle, a couple of cracked ribs and a mild concussion were the extent of her major wounds. The doctors considered her lucky. If she hadn't been wearing a helmet, or had fallen short of the soft plantlife she'd managed to land in by even so much as a foot, she probably wouldn't have made it." 

Another memory made itself aware to him just then, and even after all the time that had passed, it still made him cringe. 

_"**You bastard!**" April viciously slapped Raphael in the face. _

Luckily, he was sitting in a chair, or he wouldn't have had the strength to absorb the impact. The crash had done a number on him as well. He entire body ached. He thought he'd broken his arm, but upon examination, Michaelangelo had declared that it was just very badly bruised. His knees and palms were still embedded with bits of gravel and rock, but he refused to let Mike touch him. He didn't want to bother with all of it just now. 

It was a wonder he'd been able to hide from all of the police and paramedics that had showed up on the scene to carry Shadow away to the hospital. He'd blacked out for a moment, and when he recovered consciousness, it took him a few minutes to regain his bearings. He'd remained in the underbrush and brambles until every last one of them was gone. It had been a chore to hoist himself up and force his body to move. Luckily, he found a pickup truck parked in an empty lot. He ducked under the tarp and managed to hitch a ride most of the way home without the owner suspecting a thing. But now, he was in so much pain, he couldn't even stand up. 

He stared at her in silence, his face reflecting nothing but shock and grief, and the darkened shape of a handprint where April had just slapped him. 

She buried her face in her hands and wept. Mike gently laid his hands on her shoulders and led her away. Raphael retained his statuesque demeanor, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. His hands rested on either side of him, the fingers curled tightly around the edges of the seat. 

"Raphael..." 

It appeared that Splinter's voice had finally broken the spell that had held him entranced. He rose his eyes to meet those of his sensei, and an overwhelming feeling of guilt and despair washed over him. As he lowered his head, his body began to shake with violent sobs that echoed through the underground tunnels. 

Don and Leo exchanged amazed glances. They had never seen Raphael open up like this. In fact, this was the first time that they had actually seen him cry without attempting to hide his tears. Splinter crouched down as much as his sore joints would allow, and embraced Raphael with arms of understanding. Raphael continued to wallow in his anguish. 

"God, I'm so sorry...." His muffled cry was devoid of any anger or hostility. Raphael was more vulnerable than anyone had ever seen him. 

Splinter didn't say anything just yet. He decided to wait until Raphael had had a chance to heal both physically and emotionally before he bestowed upon him the biggest lecture of his life. 

********

"Leonardo, unlike Splinter, couldn't wait to rip into Raphael. He felt that Raph needed to be scolded about the error of his ways while the incident was still fresh in his mind. It angered him to no end that he'd been so entirely irresponsible, even after he'd promised us that he would never bring Shadow's life into such danger. And the idea of upsetting Splinter in his delicate condition only added fuel to the fire." 

_"I've had just about enough of this, Raphael! Look at what you did! Don't you see that you could have **killed** her?" _

Raphael didn't say anything. Instead, he kept his eyes pinned to his lap and stared at the soiled bandage that was wrapped around his thigh. 

Only a week had passed since the accident, but Leonardo decided he had been generous enough in giving Raphael **that** much leeway. 

"Are you proud of yourself, Raph? Do you see now where your destructive lifestyle has taken you? You're hurting everyone, not only yourself!" 

Raphael raised his eyes to look at his brother. There was an intensity there that was all too familiar to Leonardo. Still, he said nothing, only glared, motionless, like a haunted sculpture. 

"And you have nothing to say for yourself? You're just gonna sit there like a log and pretend that none of this is your fault? I can't believe you! I can't believe that you can be so cold--" 

"For godsake, don't you think that I'm hurting right now, Leo?" Raphael finally shot back. "Don't you realize that every night I lay in bed thinking about her all bandaged up in that hospital? God Leo, what kind of monster do you think I **AM**?" 

"I never said you were a monster, Raphael. But this destructiveness has **got** to stop! I'm sick of the lies and the betrayal--" 

"Now wait just a fucking minute--" Raphael wasn't about to absorb all of this condemnation without a comeback. Gathering his strength, he forced himself painfully to his feet to meet his opponent face to face. 

"NO! **You** wait, Raph! You have done nothing but wallow in self-pity for the past few years, and you're so selfish, you never stop to think about who you're hurting. Our human friends don't deserve this! They've had every right to walk away from us--from all of this, yet they've stayed. They chose **us**, Raph, not the other way around. And now, with what you've done, we'll be lucky if they ever speak to us again!" 

"Come on, Leo, it was a **mistake**! I know you're not familiar with that term, but such a thing **does** exist. I know what I did was wrong, okay? It was beyond wrong. It was totally stupid and irresponsible. I don't need you to tell me that. I misjudged myself, I though I had control--" 

"That's just it...you **have** no control. You never have! You're an accident waiting to happen, Raphael, and you don't **care**--" 

"Like **hell** I don't care!!!" Raphael was raging. "Don't you **ever** tell me I don't care! Just because I'm not perfect like you, doesn't mean that I don't feel bad when I make a mistake." 

"I never said I was perfect--" 

"I may not be emotional like Mike or thoughtful like Don, but that doesn't mean I don't fuckin' care!" 

"Yeah? Well then tell me this--does going out and getting drunk every night against the better wishes of your family sound like you **care**? Does taking over the organization of your family's life-long enemy sound like you **care**? How about bringing the enemy into our secret lair and making yourself vulnerable to her?" 

"Leo, shut up. You don't know anything!" 

"There's one thing I sure as hell **do** know--you aren't fit to be a member of this team anymore." 

That comment sent Raphael over the edge. 

A fist came at Leo's head, which he ducked without too much effort. 

Leo himself burned with anger. He couldn't determine exactly why he was as mad as he was, but he decided that it was time for Raphael to learn a lesson about life once and for all. He couldn't bear the thought that someone else might suffer from the effects of his depression, even Raph himself. 

He didn't want to hurt his brother. He knew that the wounds were still healing, and Raphael wasn't nearly as strong as usual. However, he would defend himself if necessary, and if the situation became hostile, he was prepared to fight to prove his point. 

Another fist came at him, this time making contact with his collarbone. Despite Raphael's weakened state, the punch was powerful, and it knocked him off his footing. 

"Raph..." Leo warned. "I don't think you want to do this right now." 

Another swing, barely missing his face. 

"You know I'm stronger than you. I'd kick your butt..." 

A knee to the plastron. Leo doubled over and sucked in a breath, his eyes darkening with vengeance. He'd given his brother ample warning. If he wasn't going to take it, then he would just have to teach him a lesson about that too. 

Leonardo rushed forward, his eyes on his prey. He rammed his fist into Raphael's chest, nearly knocking him over. Raph glared at his brother, his hands curling up into tight balls of fury. 

"You're gonna pay for that, Leo..." 

Donatello breathed raggedly as the vision continued. The memories were becoming clearer and more defined as the fighting proceeded. He watched them attack each other again and again, their strikes becoming harder and more intense with each passing moment. His heart pounded in his chest and his entire body shook. He knew what was coming. 

_Raphael had fallen, and he laid there for a long moment, teeth clenched in pain and breathing rapidly. Just when Leonardo thought he'd won this round, Raph was rising to his feet again, even more determined. He stalked toward Leonardo, his intent clear. _

Leo reached back and drew a katana from its sheath. He held it out in front of him, taking a defensive stance. "Don't make me use this, Raphael." 

Raphael's face was a mask of hostility. It didn't matter now what kind of threats Leo made. He had insulted his honor, and he wasn't going to get away with it. 

As Raph pulled out his sai and charged Leonardo, two things happened simultaneously. First, Raphael's wounded leg gave way, and second, an enraged Leonardo thrust his sword in Raph's direction. With the angle of the fall, and the fact that Raphael was distracted in that instant, Leonardo's sword sunk right into Raphael's chest. 

Don was now shaking violently. 

_Leonardo immediately retracted his hand, the sword falling from it to the floor with a foreboding clank. He found himself paralyzed with shock and horror, unable to move or even open his mouth to call for help. Raphael's body slumped to the ground, the blood pooling up over the wound and dripping down his side to the floor. Leo let out a strangled cry, and seconds later, Donatello and Michaelangelo rushed into the room. Their horrified cries filled the tunnels, drowned out only by Leonardo's anguished scream. _

"Oh my god..." he breathed, still unable to move. "I...I killed him!" 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER SEVEN**

  


  


_Feel insanity tonight  
Lost with one long cry   
Try to break the loneliness  
No succesful try _

Heard that cry a thousand times   
Did not see the light   
I didn't know him demanding  
One last fatal try 

Now I understand his lonely cry... 

Missed to say good bye that night,   
Haunted by his cry   
I never knew the reason why   
I guess I just thought of "I" 

Words were drowned by rain or tears   
Didn't know what he said   
I try to recall the happy years   
These minutes just leave me sad 

Now I understand his lonely cry 

"I Heard Him Cry" - H-Blockx 

  


  
**_The Right Action..._**  
_"No...God, **nooooo!"** _

As Michaelangelo cradled Raphael, the thick red blood pooled from the wound and stained his hands and arms, but he didn't care. He was completely oblivious to everything but his fallen brother. Donatello struggled to keep his mind clear. He knew that it was up to him now to hold the fabric of the family together. In a matter of minutes, the stitching had been worn so thin, it seemed as though all that was left were frayed, unraveling strings. Everything was falling apart so rapidly, he wasn't even sure if he could mend the strands back together again. 

Michaelangelo was sobbing as he rocked the limp body in his arms. He was too wrought with pain to even **think** about comforting anyone else. Leonardo was deep in shock. It appeared all he could do at present, was stare at Raphael's corpse. It was a chilling sight. The body was limp and lifeless, head drooping, arms sagging from the shoulders Michaelangelo gripped so tightly in his blood encrusted fingers. The scene sickened him. Blood...death...needless annihilation. And at the hands of his own brother. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to run away. He wanted to scream. But he didn't move. He just knelt there on the cold hard concrete, staring in morbid fascination. 

The nausea took a dangerous leap as he moved toward them to more closely examine the wound on Raphael's plastron. It was deeper than he'd imagined, dark red blood bubbling over and dripping to the floor. He'd lost so much blood already. Even if the slim chance existed that he **was** still alive, it was only a matter of time now. The rich smell of the blood rose, causing Donatello to gag. He turned his head, unable to bear the sight any longer. 

Leo was just standing there, the same as always, an expression like stone freezing his shocked features. His eyes were glazed over with a mixture of surprise and fear, his entire body trembling fiercely. His voice was barely audible, but Don could hear it now--a never ending chant of "oh my god...oh my god..." 

Don winced. There was blood on Leonardo's hands. Raph's blood. The katana lay at his feet, reflecting the illumination from an overhead light. It too was covered in crimson. 

**God...dear god, how could this have happened?** 

He knew how. Still, he had to ask. "Leonardo?" 

"Oh my god...oh my god...I...oh god..." Leo's voice was almost a whisper. 

"Leo..." Don swallowed, his voice trembling. "What...why?" 

Leonardo couldn't answer. His brain and mouth where struggling against it. The words refused to form. In a small corner in the back of his mind, he knew what he had done, but the rest of him was desperately trying to forget. 

Don rose to his feet, anger and sorrow overwhelming him. "Leo!" He gripped the turtle's arms tightly. "Leo, dammit! Answer me!" 

He shook Leonardo with such force, he thought he would fall over. Still, his brother said nothing. He appeared to be in a trance, and refused to free his sight from Raphael. 

"Leonardo...snap out of it! Come on...damn you...answer me!" 

More shaking...but his brother was comatose in his grip. 

"Dammit..." 

He slapped him in the face. Hard. Leonardo blinked. He slowly turned his head, and drew his eyes away from Raph to face Donatello. He blinked again, his eyes glazing over with tears. 

"Leonardo..." Don said more softly, feeling guilty for his attack. "Leo, what happened? Why did you do this?" 

Leo lowered his head, his entire body shaking with horrific sobs. It was agony to listen to, but Don knew he had to make Leonardo face this. He had to find out some answers. He was in fact, glad for the outburst. It reminded him that Leonardo wasn't a heartless monster. He hadn't meant to hurt Raphael...or had he? 

"Leo?" 

"Don...I--oh god..." The sobs rose until they were almost deafening. Donatello's heart was pounding. He hated this. He hated it more than any horrible thing he'd ever experienced in his entire life, maybe even more so than he hated Oroku Saki. Still, he couldn't turn away. This was reality and he had to face it. He had to gather the facts. He had to try to pull things together. 

Donatello was shaking as Leo's words bit into him, deeper than he could have imagined. "Don...I...I...killed him!" 

The verbal confirmation seemed too much for Leonardo to handle. He collapsed. Don barely caught him in time and lowered him gently to a sitting position on the floor. Leonardo was hyperventilating. Sorrow filled Don as he watched him. He could tell that the internal struggle was already brewing. 

"Leo, I...put your head between your knees. There, that's it--" 

"Donatello..." 

He turned around quickly to face what was perhaps his worst fear. "Master Splinter..." How long had he been standing there? How much had he seen? 

The rat held his hand outstretched, bidding Donatello to take it. Trembling, he did so, and as he latched on, he thought he could feel the rat's brittle body shaking too. **This is too much for him to handle...he's too weak to deal with this right now...** 

But Splinter proved stronger than Don imagined. He took immediate command of the situation, never faltering for a moment. They knelt down beside Raphael. Michaelangelo still held him, but his sobs had quieted down to desperate sniffles. 

"Michaelangelo..." 

There was no answer, only the sound of choked breathing. 

"Michaelangelo..." 

Mike rose his eyes to meet those of his sensei. "Yes, Master Splinter?" 

"I know that this is difficult, but remember that your first duty is to your brother. We must stop the bleeding." 

"B...but Splinter...there's...there's no pulse..." 

Don felt his heart leap into his throat as his worst fears were confirmed. **No pulse? Dear God...** 

"We must do all we can, my sons. Please, Michaelangelo, find a cloth to--" 

"Got it master." He said quietly. He gently laid Raph onto his back and rose to his feet. He stood there for a moment, as if he was afraid to let go, as if he was worried that if he looked away and left him behind, he'd never see him again. Finally, he closed his eyes, turned his head, and hurried away. 

Splinter laid his ear against Raphael's chest and closed his eyes. Donatello held his breath. He was trembling with adrenaline. He knew that things looked very grim, but there was something inside of him that kept him going, some tiny glimmer of hope... 

Mike returned with a clean towel, some water, medical thread and a needle. He waited as patiently as he could while Splinter listened for even the tiniest hint of life. Moments passed, but it seemed like an eternity. 

"Master Splinter?" Mike urged gently. 

The rat's shoulders shook and a sob escaped him. Donatello laid his hands on his master's shoulders, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched Michaelangelo fall to his knees on the other side of their brother. Finally, Splinter lifted his head, only to bury it in his hands. Don wrapped his arms around him, bringing him close. Splinter laid his head on his shoulder. He could contain his anguish no longer. 

"Raphael...my son..." he cried. 

Tears pooled at Donatello's feet. His arms were crossed around his body in a hug, as he tried to comfort himself from the painful memory. 

"It's not fair..." he cried. "It's just not fair..." 

A chute opened up above his head, and out dropped a box of tissues. They landed neatly on the table beside him. He stumbled over to a chair and slumped down, reaching for one. 

"Thanks, Chet...," he mumbled, wiping his eyes. 
    
    ^^MY PLEASURE, DONATELLO...^^

He remained silent for several minutes, his head lowered, eyes bloodshot and swollen from all of his crying. He stared at the table, studying the grain of the wood, and trying to clear his mind of all that he'd experienced so many years ago. These were the things that held him in such anguish, the thoughts and feelings he'd beat down time and time again, lest they consume him. Only now, he could bear to conceal them no longer. He had to face the truth, no matter how gruesome, no matter how agonizing. 

Once more, his unruly mind began to wander, and before long, he found himself again in that place. His brothers and sensei were near. It was much darker and colder than he remembered, still it was home, and it was just as it had been that haunting night in late October. 

_"Leonardo..." He heard Splinter's voice before he saw him. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust. The rat's fur glowed orange in the candlelight. He sat in the lotus position, as did the others, the calm mask of his face betraying the sorrow that continued to bubble and grow inside. _

Leonardo's head was down, his face filled with shame and disgrace, his gaze on his lap. The others watched him with mixed feelings, each anticipating what he might say, yet not sure they wanted to hear it. He could feel their stares burning into him like the embers from the tiny wicks that surrounded them. After a couple of long moments, he began to speak, not daring to raise his eyes to look at them. 

"Master Splinter..." he said softly. "I know that I have caused you much disgrace..." 

"Disgrace, my son, doesn't even begin to express the pain and anguish you have bestowed upon myself and your brothers." 

"Yes, sensei." Leo was fighting for control over his emotions. Don knew that he was unstable after all that had happened. At any moment, he could crumble and fall apart at their feet. And knowing that he'd let Splinter down was the worst torment Leo could imagine. 

"You will look at me when I am talking to you, Leonardo." 

It was a struggle. Leo could not dishonor his sensei again, but it was unbearable to look into the face of the one that he'd caused such pain, the one he loved as a father and spiritual leader. He felt as though he was the most foul creature to ever have walked the earth. Still, he mustered his courage and rose his head to look at him, determined to face his fear, no matter what happened. When his eyes met Splinter's however, his heart almost tore in two. That face was so filled with pain and disappointment, it was almost unbearable. 

"Master, I...there is no excuse for what I've done. I have dishonored my entire clan--you, my honorable father, my brothers." He glanced at Don and Mike. "I am a shame and a disgrace. But please take one thing to heart--I never meant to hurt Raphael. It was an accident." 

"Have I not instructed you in the ways and code of the ninja? Have I not bestowed upon you the proper morals and ethics? Have I not taught you never to strike in anger?" His voice lowered then so it was almost inaudible. "Does your family not mean anything to you, my son?" 

The words struck a chord in Leo, and the tears began to fall like rain. Donatello was fearful that he might go into shock again, but he kept his voice level and his eyes focused. 

"God, Splinter...you--Don, Mike...you all mean more to me than you could ever know. All our lives, we've been all we've ever had. All we ever **will** have. Even Raphael..." He sucked in a breath, trying to maintain control. "We had our differences but--I loved him, sensei. God, I loved him." 

The others sat as quiet observers, watching as Leonardo sobbed into his hands. Donatello could feel his own heart breaking into tiny pieces. The world was spinning around him at such speed, that things were happening quicker than he could comprehend or react to them. All he knew was the great pain of loss that filled him entirely and blocked out all hope of coherent thought. 

Leonardo was a mess. He was desperately trying to get a grip on his emotions, but he was failing miserably. He seemed more vulnerable than Donatello had ever seen him, and it made him uneasy. He glanced at Mike. The tears had stopped, but he was shaking violently, and refused to look at anything but the concrete wall ahead of him. 

"Mike?" Donatello rose to his knees and moved toward his brother. "Come on. Maybe we should..." 

"No, Donatello." Splinter's voice was stern. "This is a family matter, thus we will discuss it as a family." 

"Yes, Master Splinter." Don said nervously and sat back down. 

"In fact, I would like to hear your thoughts on the situation, Donatello." 

He stared at his sensei in surprise. "Me? But, I..." 

Splinter looked at him in quiet expectation, patiently waiting for him to answer. 

Don shook as he began to speak. The strange gruffness in his voice was foreign to him. "I...I think that what happened here was really bad...uhhh...I mean, obviously, it was awful. We have lost a brother and ally, and he will be greatly missed." He paused to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "But Leo seems truly sorry for what he did, and while that won't bring Raph back, I think...I think it counts for something." 

He had been terrified ever since they'd found Raph that Splinter would demand Leo commit seppuku. That was the code of the ninja after all. He could only hope that his tiny meaningless plea could make a difference. 

Splinter considered Donatello's words for a moment, then turned to Mike. 

"Michaelangelo...please enlighten us with your thoughts." 

For the first time, Mike pried his sight from the wall, and turned to gaze at his master. "I think..." he swallowed. "I think that I want Raphael back. It's not fair...it's so unfair, Master Splinter! Why us? Why, after having to live as we do all of our lives...why do we have to lose a brother? Why...?" As Mike's voice trailed off Don inched closer to him and did his best to comfort him. 

Leo lowered his head again. "I've caused you all...myself included, great pain. What I have done is inexcusable, but I can't..." He breathed. "I can't bring him back. I can't make it go away. I never meant...I'd do anything to bring him back. Anything. I'm not asking you to forgive me, but please, if there is one thing that gives you comfort and condolence in the months to come, let it be that." 

Donatello was trembling. His hands shook as he rubbed his arms, trying to rid himself of the shivers that flowed through him. He glanced out the window. The sun was shining brightly. It was warm outside. So why then did he feel so cold? 

Another memory occurred to him then. 

_It took both of Michaelangelo's hands to completely cover the wound. The towel below them was soaked and dripping, but he continued to press down, applying as much pressure to the wound as was safe. _

Splinter was on the other side of them, his mouth over Raph's, attempting CPR. With the gaping chest wound, the method proved difficult, but they were determined. They couldn't let him die, they just couldn't. 

Donatello found himself cursing their existence just as Raph had always done. If they'd been normal--**human,** they could have taken him to a hospital. Maybe then, they would have even the slightest chance of saving his life. It seemed ironic to him that he could be so much like his angry, emotional brother when provoked. Perhaps they weren't that different after all. He glanced at Mike. His entire face was a mask of emotion, but the sorrow that had filled it completely only moments ago was now replaced with determination. 

Swallowing, Donatello did his best to avoid thinking too much about Raphael's condition, and pressed a finger to his wrist, concentrating on his search for a pulse. Still nothing. **Dammit...come on, come on...** 

Splinter finished pumping Raphael's chest, and lowered his face again to grant him more of his life-giving breath. Donatello and Michaelangelo could tell it was taking a lot out of the old rat, but neither dared to stop him. Splinter was determined to do all he could to revive Raphael. 

"Can you hold this?" Mike indicated to the soiled towel covering Raphael's plastron. Don squirmed and looked uneasy. He'd always been a little squeamish around blood, even his own. "Please? I have to go get a clean one." 

Don scooted closer and glanced hesitatingly at the blood. He'd seen his brothers injured hundreds of times, but this felt different somehow. This blood was tainted with a sibling rivalry that stemmed much deeper than jealousy or dominance. It was filled with hate--for things that could not be changed, for what they were and would never be, and perhaps even with the fear that maybe in each other, they saw an image of themselves that they didn't want to face. Senseless violence had caused its flow, and at the hands of one of his own brothers. It made him feel sick to think about it, and it filled him with an anguish so deep, he could hardly stand it. 

"It's okay, Don." Mike tried to be comforting. "I'll be right back." 

He watched Mike go, then pressed his hands into the wet towel. He could feel the blood pool over his fingers, thick and warm. He wondered how much longer a corpse could bleed, how long it would be until the blood turned cold. 

Splinter was pumping Raphael's chest again, with such urgency, the sight of it made Donatello nervous. The entire premise of what was going on around him began to sink in. **My brother is dead. He's not going to wake up. We've lost him. Raphael is gone, and Splinter is trying to revive a corpse.** 

Don sighed, his voice catching in his throat. "He didn't die that day...not physically. After several attempts, Splinter was finally able to produce a pulse. There was a lot to thank my sensei for. He gave Raph another chance--gave us _all_ an opportunity to fix things. Only problem was, he didn't wake up. He was in a coma, and even after several blood transfusions that left us dizzy and weak, his heartbeat was slow, and his pulse weak, which indicated that it was only a matter of time. 

"As we sat in the dojo that night, discussing Leo's fate, we considered our brother dead. He couldn't speak, refused to open his eyes, and couldn't even move. I felt as though we had done him an injustice, prolonging the physical when the spiritual was inevitable. I wondered if he was in pain, if he could hear us talking to him. When I looked at the dark, sticky blood that still covered my hands, I felt as though _I_ were the murderer. What right did I have to play God just because I couldn't bear the thought of losing him?" 

********

Leonardo snuck out of the lair very early the next morning. He was gone when we woke up. An extra blanket had been draped over Raphael, and upon further inspection, I found it to be the one from Leo's bed. He hadn't told any of us that he planned to leave. Our only indication as to where he had gone was from the brief note he left behind, which told us that he was taking a sabbatical. He would be hiking to the mountains where he could meditate and clear his head. He explained that this time apart would give us all a chance to heal, and to come to grips with what had happened. We spent our days in constant worry. What were his real intentions? Would he ever come back? Was he even still alive? Deep down, I believe we all knew. Yet, we never really spoke of it, and indeed, we never obtained a lucid answer." More tears trickled down Donatello's cheeks. "My brother never returned. It still haunts me to this day." 
    
    ^^ACCESSING FILE 5547...OCTOBER 23, 2001...

"Chet?" 
    
    ^^WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO--^^

"I...what is it, Chet?" 
    
    ^^FILE 5547...JOURNAL OF MICHAELANGELO, OCTOB--

Don let out the breath he'd been holding. "Play it." 

In a matter of moments, he found himself in the lair yet again. It was very dark, and he estimated by the light patterns from the grating overhead that it couldn't have been later than three in the morning. Michaelangelo and Leo were the only ones around, and they were completely oblivious to their silent, invisible observer. Donatello knew that something was about to take place that he had never been aware of. 

It was obvious that Leonardo had been trying to sneak away, in hopes that no one would miss him until morning. He was clad in pads and bandanna, and gripped one katana tightly in his hand. He had a very small bag slung over his shoulder. The usual holster he wore strapped to his back was nowhere to be found. This seemed odd to Donatello. Leo never left the lair without it. 

_"Leo?"_

_"Mike! What are you doing up?"_

_"I couldn't sleep. Where are you going?"_

Leo lowered his head and said nothing. 

_"Leo?"_

_"Look Mike, I can't tell you, okay? There's just...something I have to do."_

Mike stared at him, puzzled for a moment, but the realization slowly dawned on him. _"Oh god, Leo, you're not gonna--"_

_"Mike..."_ Leo shot him a warning look, and tried to occupy himself with the bag. _"I have to go. Please, don't try to stop me..."_

_"No..."_ Mike breathed. _"Please, Leo...don't..."_

Leo turned to face him. He could see the lines of worry and sorrow that covered his 'little brother's' face. He couldn't bear to see Mike in so much pain. Leo laid a hand gently on his shoulder. _"Look at me, Mike. Look at this katana."_ He held it up so Mike could see the splatters of dry blood which still covered it almost entirely. _"This is the sword I used to...to... Do I look like a leader to you? Do I appear honorable to you? I once prided myself on my ability to maintain self-control. I mocked Raphael for losing his temper so easily. But it was **me** who made the strike. **I** was the one who lost it. I failed, Mike. I've lost everything--my self respect, my honor, my brother, maybe even my will to live..." _

"Leo, please don't talk like that..." Tears were flowing for the fourth time that day. 

_"Mike, I..."_ His own emotions got the best of him now. _"I can't do it anymore. I'm not fit to be a leader. I'm a failure--more so that I could ever accuse Raph, or __any_ of you of becoming. I've failed you all--you, Don, Master Splinter...god, I...I failed Raphael most of all. I thought if I just tried hard enough, I could somehow save him from himself, but in fact, the one I should have worried about was **myself.** Mike, what I did is unforgivable. I can't live with the guilt...with the dishonor I have caused. And above all else, I know that I must avenge his death. I must restore honor to our clan." 

_"But Leo, there has to be something else...you can't just--"_

_"There's no other way, Mike. You know that."_

_"Then let me go instead."_

_"Wha--Mike?"_

_"I mean it. Let me do it. I'll sacrifice my life for yours and Raph's." _

"Mike, that's ludicrous." 

"Leo, I already lost one brother. I couldn't bear to lose another. I'd rather die than go through that again." 

"Mike, I..." He looked into his brother's eyes. They seemed to share the same tears. _"**I** must avenge Raphael. It was **my** blade that pierced him, and so it shall be my blade that restores his honor."_

Mike grabbed Leo by the shoulders. _"I'm begging you, Leo! Please! Please don't do this! Please!"_

_"Mike,"_ Leo admitted. _"I'm scared. I'm close to terrified. I don't know what's really going to happen after I die. And what if my gift isn't acceptable? What if I fail to restore his honor? What if I find Raph, and he turns me away?" _

"But Raph wouldn't--" 

"I always knew deep down, that somehow, in some way, I would die giving my life for one of my brothers. I consider it an honor. I only hope that it will somehow mend the damage I've done." 

"No...you can live, Leo! You can rectify it in some other way. We'll help you..." 

Leo shook his head. _"It wouldn't be the same, Mike."_

_"But Leo..."_

_"One of the paths to enlightenment, according to Buddhist teaching, is the Noble Eight-fold Path. Splinter taught us of such things frequently in our youth. It speaks of possessing the right actions--you remember it, don't you Mike? Refrain from stealing, unchastity...**killing.**"_ Leo lowered his head. 

_"I do remember. I remember it well. But Raph's not really--" _

"He's dead, Mike. Let's face it. His body may be intact for a few more days, but his heart struggles to pump what blood he's got left. Soon, it will all be over. His shed blood is on my hands, Mike. Think about that. Wouldn't you do whatever it took to fix it?" 

Mike lowered his head and began to cry softly. The thought of losing two brothers over something so foolish seemed ridiculous, but he knew Leo was right. If only the two of them could have gotten along...if only they both could have controlled their tempers. 

_"Mike..."_ Leo said softly. _"The Bible...Exodus 20, verse...5 I believe, says 'thou shalt not kill.'" _

"But...we're not Christian, Leo." Mike sniffled. 

_"No...but that doesn't really matter does it? We both know it's wrong."_

Mike couldn't look at him. 

_"Listen to me, Mike. **I** am the one who has committed the crime. Now **I** am the one who must pay the penalty."_ He swallowed and forced himself to confront the words he feared most. _"I murdered my brother, without cause or reason. And for that, you should hate me, Michaelangelo." _

"I do...I do feel hatred, Leo. I hate what you did, and I'm angry. Angry at you, angry at the whole fucking situation. But I don't hate _you,_ Leo. I could never hate my brother..." 

"Mike..." The tears were blurring his vision, making it hard to focus on him. _"You know I must do this. It's the only way to restore Raphael's honor...yours, Don's, Master Splinter's...my own."_

Mike sobbed heavily. He felt as though the entire world was crashing down on top of him. 

_"Mike, please. Don't cry. Things will be okay. You'll carry on without me. Life will go on in time, you'll see." _

"What...what do I tell the others?" 

Leonardo thought about this for a moment. _"Tell them nothing." _

"But Leo!" 

"Please, Mike. It's my only request. Don't tell them. At least not until I'm far away from here. If they don't figure it out on their own eventually, you can tell them when the time is right. But for now, it's better that they don't know. It'll ease the pain..." 

Leo took a step away, but Mike wasn't ready yet to let him go. He wrapped his arms around Leonardo, holding him in a death grip. _"Don't go, Leo! **Please!**" _

"Goodbye Mike..." 

"Please!" Mike sobbed. _"Please..."_

"Freeze program!" Donatello screamed. 

Don wiped the sweat from his forehead, his chest heaving. It felt like a weight had been placed on his shoulders, and was gradually growing heavier and heavier. It was hard to breathe, he was crying so hard. He lowered himself to the floor and set his head between his knees, as he'd instructed Leo to do so many years ago. 

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, which was difficult since he kept replaying those final scenes in his mind, over and over again. He let out the breath, took in a new one, held it. He repeated those steps over and over until he felt some of the tension in his body begin to ease. 

He thought about Mike, about all he must have gone through in the grueling months that followed. He had been carrying a bigger burden than any of them had imagined. He realized now how strong his brother had really been. Donatello couldn't be mad at him for granting Leo's dying wish. He knew he would have done the same. No wonder poor Mike had appeared so apathetic. It was another attempt to cover up his innermost feelings and protect the ones he loved. Mike went to his grave carrying that secret. 

"Leo was wrong." He rose to his feet slowly, still shaky from the emotions that flowed through him. "Thou shalt not kill is verse six...right after verse five--_honor your father and mother_." 

********

"The following months were the hardest I've ever endured. Not only was Leo missing, but we still had Raphael's body to look after. Splinter was very concerned for Leonardo's well being. My previous worries that he would demand Leonardo kill himself quickly faded. There was something in my master's eyes--a look of sorrowed acceptance that told me that we shared the same fear. He didn't want to lose Leo any more than I did. That's when I started to feel guilty. How could I have expected anything less? Of course Master Splinter couldn't ask one of us to sacrifice ourselves in such a way, no matter _what_ we'd done. He loved us, more so than we ever realized, I think. 

"The days passed slowly, and the three of us kept constant vigil over Raphael. Casey had come down to visit once, about three days after the incident, and he'd had to leave. He tried to keep his cool around us, but the sight of Raphael's pale, blood-soaked body was just too much. April stayed away completely. I wasn't sure if she hated Raphael for what had happened to Shadow, or if she was simply too afraid to see him in that state. I received my answer shortly thereafter when she finally dared to come down and see him for herself..." 

_"April?" _

She stood in the middle of the living room, several feet from the couch, a look of apprehension on her face. She stared at the back of the couch for a long while, as if trying to decide whether she dared to peer around it to see what ghastly sight awaited her on the other side. 

"Hi..." she said uneasily. "I thought I should come down and--I hope I'm not disturbing anything..." 

"No, April." Splinter said kindly. "Please, come in and make yourself at home." 

Donatello gestured toward the couch where Mike was carefully changing the bandages. April slowly neared, her attempt to look casual fading as she caught sight of Raphael. 

"Oh god..." She gasped. She covered her face with her hands and turned away. "God, I'm sorry, I--" 

"It's alright, April." Don touched her arm, unsure of what to say. 

She looked at him. His image was blurry and distorted through her tears. "God...I...the things I said to him. I was so cruel. I didn't mean it. I should've never said--" 

"Take heart, April." Splinter said softly. 

"Yeah," Mike added from his spot on the couch. "I'm sure he knows how you feel." 

"We were just about to have some tea. Perhaps you'd like to join us?" 

April bit her lip and nodded. "That would be nice, thanks." 

Splinter took four cups from the cupboard and poured the hot liquid into them. Steam rose from the contents, filling the air with a warm, herbal scent. Mike finished doctoring Raph's wounds, washed his hands, and joined the other three at the table. They drank in silence. 

"It's funny, you know..." April said after a long while. "We used to do this all the time--me, Shadow, the five of you..." Emotion overtook her and she was unable to complete the thought. 

"And now everything's changed." Mike added. "Nothing will ever be the same." 

"Don't talk like that, Mike." Don said softly. 

"It's the truth, Don. Splinter, you and me...we're the only ones left." 

"But that wasn't entirely true..." 

********

"In the days that followed, we began to notice a change for the better in Raphael. His pulse was growing stronger, and some of his color began to return. We assigned ourselves shifts--I took the early mornings, Mike took nights, and we gave Splinter the daytime, so he could get his rest. We monitored him every couple of hours, checking his pulse, making sure his dressings weren't soaked through, and checking his temperature. It was an agonizing wait. Although he appeared to be improving, we knew that at any time, he could take a turn for the worst. 

"We were a tangled web of emotions. There wasn't much we could do now but wait. And waiting was worst of all. Mike read him stories he'd written, in hopes that Raphael could hear him. Even a 'shut the hell up' from our fallen brother would have been very welcome as far as Michaelangelo was concerned. Splinter kept busy with meditation. He explained that perhaps if he could locate his spirit via the astral plane, he could somehow bring him back with him. I considered this hope a little optimistic, but then again, Splinter had been known for accomplishing things we, at times, had thought impossible. 

"I tried to keep my mind focused on other things--the vast expanse of the solar system, the molecular structure of mold, simple things like that. But at other times, I couldn't help but mourn for my brothers. I missed Leonardo terribly. His absence left a void in my life I'd never experienced before. And even though Raphael was still with us, his inability to interact or converse with us filled me with dread and longing. 

"As I slept one night, I found myself suddenly awakened by a pair of rough hands. Disoriented, I sat up quickly, readying to defend myself against the unseen attacker. 

'Donnie...' I relaxed at the sound of Mike's voice. 

'Mike, you scared me. Is it my turn already?' It appeared to still be dark outside, though at times, it was hard to tell. 

'No...but, Don...' 

I started to lay back down. 'Goodnight, Mike. I'll see you in a few hours--' 

'It's Raph, Don! I think...I think he might be waking up!' 

'I launched out of bed faster than I ever had before, quicker even then when I was a kid on Christmas morning. 'Get Splinter!' I called as I flew past him. 

I kneeled down next to the couch, Splinter and Michaelangelo not far behind me. I stared down at Raphael, studying him for signs of change or movement. At first glance, he appeared just as comatose as ever, but as I watched, I noticed little things--the twitch of a finger, a tiny frown, an almost inaudible sigh. 

Splinter and Mike knelt down next to me, and Mike took Raph's hand. Splinter laid his on Raph's forehead, and beckoned him softly. 

'Raphael...' 

My heart was racing, and my stomach was churning. I could feel the blood pulsing in my temples. Was he going to be okay? He had to make it, he just _had_ to! 

Raph's frown deepened, which was a very good sign. Maybe he could hear Splinter talking to him. 

'Raphael...can you hear me?' 

I glanced at Mike. His eyes were big and bright, and he was gripping Raphael's hand so tightly, I wasn't sure if he was frowning at the sound of Splinter's voice, or from the pain of the squeeze. 

'Mmmm...' 

'Raph?' I moved closer, studying his face. 

'Come on, Raph...come on...' Mike urged. 

Splinter turned to me. 'Bring me some cold water and a washcloth.' 

I didn't want to leave Raphael, not now, but I obeyed. It was the fastest I'd ever done anything in my life, too. I gathered up a bowl and some ice--hey, Splinter _said_ to make it cold--and covered the ice with water. 

Splinter submerged the washcloth in the freezing water, wrung it out and laid it on Raph's forehead. 'Raphael...' he tried again. 

Raphael's eyelids fluttered and flew open. He gasped for breath, his face contorting with pain. 

That moment was like salvation to me. All of my deepest wishes came true in that instant. Raphael was alive! It was like a dream--one that I hoped I would never awaken from. 

'Raphael!' Mike cried. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but a grin spread the entire width of his face. 

I pulled Mike into a hug, and we both cried tears of joy and relief. All of my emotions began to surface at once--the pain and anguish I'd undergone when I though we'd lost him, the guilt of trying to keep him alive, the worry I still possessed for Leonardo, and now the joy of knowing that my brother was going to live. 

Splinter laid a hand very carefully on Raphael's chest. 'Be calm, Raphael. Everything is all right.' 

Raphael coughed, then let out a cry of pain. Splinter gently ran his hand down the side of Raph's face. 'You will be alright, my son.' 

'Hurts...' Raph gasped. 

'I know, but you must relax.' 

The sounds of Raphael's desperate cries of anguish were like music to my ears. I felt great sympathy for his pain, but the sound of his voice helped confirm that he was going to be okay. He looked at us, and his eyes seemed to be questioning, as if he wasn't sure what had happened to him. I was afraid. A part of me wanted to tell him, but there was no way I could. I knew though, that with time, he would start to remember, and I was terrified of what he might do when the realization of all that had happened finally hit him. 

Michaelangelo scooted in close, still squeezing Raph's hand. 'How do you feel, Raph?' 

He grimaced. 'Hurts to breathe...' 

'Yeah...you probably have a few bruised ribs, but that cut--' I stopped myself. 

Raphael turned his sight to his plastron, and terror filled me. We watched him silently, sparing quick, worried glances at one another. Would he remember now? It would do him no good to get upset. Every movement, every angered breath would only make his situation worse. He needed rest. Rest and...food. 

'Hey, Raph, are you hungry?' I attempted to change the subject. It seemed to work for the moment. 

'Starving...' he groaned. 

Mike jumped up. 'I'll get you some soup, Raph. Take it easy, okay?' 

"It would be a long road, and we all knew it, but Raphael was alive. What more could we ask for? I silently prayed to any god that would listen, thanking them all for giving me my brother back." 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER EIGHT**

  


  


_I was a fighter always looking for trouble  
And my life was so empty, there was nothing left to live for  
But then it happened one night as I got into a fight  
I could hear someone saying as though he was praying _

Treat him well, he is your brother  
You might need his help some day  
We depend on one another  
Love him, that's the only way  
On the road that we're going  
We all need words of comfort and compassion  
Treat him well, he is your brother  
Love him, that's the only way 

"He is Your Brother" - ABBA 

  


  
**_The Right Livelihood..._**  
"Nine weeks had passed since the night Raphael had been injured. Nine, grueling weeks. Two of those, he'd spent unconscious. But even after he'd awakened, the worst was not behind us. Slowly, Raphael began to recover. It was a painful process, both for him, and those of us who were taking care of him. At first, he could hardly move. His injury was deep, and it made it difficult to do simple things such as talk or breathe. We brought him food regularly, though he didn't eat much. He complained that it hurt to even chew or swallow. Thanksgiving came and went. Instead of our usual gathering with April and Casey, we spent the day in the lair with Raph, trying to convince him to eat some of the Turkey dinner Mike had slaved all day preparing for us. At least we had something to be thankful for--Raphael was alive. Still, my insides ached that day, not knowing what had happened to Leonardo. I kept hoping he'd walk through that door and come join us, but as the evening slowly turned to night, I realized he wasn't coming. 

"Raph was moody, even more so than usual, and only spoke when forced to. I attributed his silence to the fact that he was in great pain. I could only hope it didn't stem deeper. As the weeks went by, he slowly regained his strength. Mike kept constant watch over the wound to make sure it healed properly without infection. His frequent fretting annoyed Raphael, and he snapped at Mike several times, but Mike just ignored him. He was determined to do whatever it took to keep our brother healthy. We were all so careful and meticulous when it came to his wounds. None of us wanted to witness a reoccurrence of those first two weeks. 

"As Raphael's body slowly healed, it seemed his memory did as well. I wish I could say the same for his mentality." Don sighed. "He was so sullen and withdrawn, I hardly recognized him anymore. And that's really saying something for Raph. We tried to get him to talk more, to open up about what had happened to him, but he shrugged us off. Splinter was the only one who'd gotten him to say anything at all about the incident, and even then, he never spoke Leonardo's name." 

********

"Shortly after Raphael's awakening, approximately one week if memory serves me, Michaelangelo came down to the lair with some exciting news. 

_'I'm gonna be a father!'_

We all just stared at him, dumbfounded, not fully comprehending his words. A father? But it was impossible. We all knew that. Turtle DNA is simply not compatible with that of a human's, and I reminded him of that fact. 

_'Not like that, Donnie, geeze!'_

"He explained that he'd been trying to adopt Damien for a long time. April had helped him with the formalities. This wasn't your normal legal adoption, however. Obviously Mike couldn't meet with social workers or enter a courtroom to plead his case. He'd simply talked things over with the kid, and set about a plan to make sure he couldn't be tracked. Damien had been without a home for four years. Mike decided that was long enough to leave the poor kid on the street. He deserved a family, no matter how eccentric or different we were. He'd sworn April to secrecy while they worked out their plan, just in case things didn't work out. But now it seemed that Mike's life long dream was finally going to become a reality." 

Don smiled. "I still remember that first day he brought him to our underground home. Damien was in awe over his surroundings, over all of us. He especially took a liking to Splinter. Splinter was like the grandfather he'd never had. He was a good kid too, and smart. Too bad things had to turn out like they did..." 

********

"Chet, pull up file 67423." Don read the printout carefully. 
    
    ^^67423...Adoption Party...Michaelangelo's Apartment...October 31, 2001...^^

He found himself in Mike's living room, suddenly surrounded by people who were talking anxiously while rushing here and there with food and decorations. As Don watched the scene unfold around him, he realized that he was seeing through the lens of a video camera. Currently, its aim was the front door. A few moments passed before he thought he heard footsteps approaching. 

_"Shhhh!" Someone whispered. "I think it's them..." _

A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "Well, Mike, we're here!" It was Casey, and he was practically shouting. 

"Oh geeze..." April complained. "Mike's going to figure out what's up before he even opens the door at this rate!" 

Quickly, everyone ducked behind the nearest piece of furniture and waited silently. Don glanced at April, his heart pounding as he waited for the cue to draw him from his hiding place. Mike, Damien and Casey entered, and April mouthed the word 'now'. All at once, heads peeked up from behind the furniture, and in unison, they shouted "Surprise!" 

A big grin spread across Mike's face. He wrapped his arm around Damien and ushered him inside. 

"Aw, guys! You didn't have to do all this!" 

"We know." April said. "We wanted to." 

"Yeah...this was an opportunity we just couldn't pass up." 

"Robyn!?" Mike threw his arms around April's sister. "You came all the way out here just for this?" 

"Hey, it's an addition to the 'family'...I had to come. Besides, April promised to show me a few weeks on the town." She winked. 

Shadow, too, was home from the hospital now. Her ankle was heavily bandaged, but she was able to limp around on it. Her ribs were wrapped, and she still had some minor scrapes and bruises, but she would have a full recovery soon enough. Mike hugged her gently. Shadow smiled at him, but she was unusually quiet. 

The camera changed perspective and angles as it moved from guest to guest, each eager to film a piece of the action. Friends and family encircled Mike and Damien, talking anxiously amongst themselves. It was almost like a dream, seeing everyone so happy again. Raphael, of course, hadn't been able to make it. He was still in pretty bad shape, and it would have been very tricky to try to move him. Besides, with his sullen demeanor, he wasn't much in the mood for a party. Splinter stayed with him, not wanting to risk leaving him alone, and also weak himself from all of the extra exertion he'd been forced into the last few weeks. He had made it a point to congratulate Michaelangelo earlier. 

For the next couple of hours, everyone set their worries and troubles aside and focused on having fun. No one could think of a better way to celebrate Halloween. It was a much-needed vacation from the strife and anguish they'd all been through recently. 

Mike devoted his attention to the food. April had made delicious shrimp appetizers. There was also a feast of pizza and salad and an enormous chocolate cake with the words 'Congratulations Michaelangelo' written on it in frosting. Mike was surprised the bakers had managed to spell his name correctly. There was plenty of wine and champagne to toast with as well. It seemed she'd spared no expense. Once his stomach was full, Mike took to chatting and laughing with Robyn and Casey. Don watched from the sidelines, feeling rather uneasy. 

All he could do was look at her--the way she laughed, the way she ate the cracker she was holding, the way she smiled, and dammit...the way that silky blouse scooped down in the front, not too revealing, but just enough to put thoughts in his head. He looked away, turning his attention to Shadow. 

"So...how's the ankle?" 

Donatello blushed as he watched himself. He was fidgeting with his hands, trying to avoid Robyn's gaze. "She was so beautiful." He quietly admitted. "I knew someone like her would never be interested in someone like me. Still, I couldn't even look at her without breaking into a sweat." 

He returned his gaze to the holographic scene. He and Shadow were still talking, and Mike had come over to sit next to them. 

_"Great party, huh?" _

"Yeah...too bad Raph had to miss it." 

"Yeah..." Don nodded. "He would have liked this spread." He motioned toward the food. "You think we should bring some down for him?" 

"April's already got it covered. She said she wants to deliver it personally." 

Don nodded again. "Mike...?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I wish Leo was here. It's just not the same without him." 

Mike looked away, trying to hold in his anguish. "Yeah, I know...I really wish he was here too." 

Having seen about as much as he could take at the moment, Donatello was about to tell Chet to freeze the program, when he spotted Robyn making her way toward them. He turned his attention back to the video replay, remembering that night like it had been yesterday. 

_"Hey guys, why so glum? This **is** a party, you know..." _

"Oh, it's nothing." Mike forced one of his convincing smiles. "We were just saying we wish Raph could have been here tonight." 

Robyn nodded. "Yeah...I heard about what happened. I'm really sorry." 

"He's getting better." Mike said as cheerily as he could muster. "You could come down and see him if you like." 

"Great. I just might do that." She glanced at the three of us in turn. "Well, I brought Pictionary. Anyone want to play?" 

Michaelangelo, who usually made it a point to show off his drawing skills at any given opportunity, stood up and stretched, motioning at Shadow inconspicuously with one of his outstretched hands. She stood up, getting the gist of the gesture. "Nahh, but thanks Robyn. I should get back to Damien." He took Shadow by the hand. "You two go ahead." 

As they walked away, Don shot Mike a helpless glance, and fidgeted some more with the glass in his hand. He'd drained it dry. Mike gave him a knowing smirk in return and strolled away, leaving the two alone. 

"Well..." Don cleared his throat. "Looks like Pictionary's out..." 

Robyn smiled and watched him with curiosity. He could feel her eyes penetrating into him. His palms were hot and clammy, and he felt a tinge of nervousness creep up his spine. "No..." She smiled. "Guess we'll have to leave that for another time. So, what else do you wanna do?" 

Donatello swallowed and ran his eyes over the silky shirt, the soft flesh of her neck. He knew **exactly** what he wanted to do, and it would be a hell of a lot more fun than Pictionary too. He tried to will the thoughts from his mind as she scooted closer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face. It was tainted with alcohol, but it wasn't an unpleasant smell. He held up his empty glass. "I was just about to get a refill. Can I get you something?" 

"Hey, that's a great idea. I'll come with you." 

Don started toward the table, and felt Robyn grab his hand. He swallowed again, and focused on the bottle of champagne. With a shaky hand, he poured them each a glass, and set the bottle down. 

Robyn held her glass up. "A toast." 

Don lifted his glass to hers. 

"To getting drunk off your ass with a good friend." 

Don smiled and sipped the alcohol. 

Robyn eyed the bottle mischievously. "You know...I'm pretty tired. My hotel is just down the street. Wanna walk me there?" 

Don just stared at her for a moment in surprise. "Me...?" 

"Of course, you, silly. Who else?" 

"Uhhh..sure!" He tried not to sound overly excited, though his heart was beating a mile a minute. "I'd love to." 

Robyn grabbed the half-empty bottle and headed for the door. "Okay then, let's go." 

Don smiled shyly as he watched the two of them leave. He rested his chin in his hands and sighed dreamily. "I ended up staying all night. Don't think we got much sleep though." 

********

Don snapped out of his thoughts of Robyn a few moments later, realizing that the video was not over. The program was still running, and the camera was now focusing on the couch in Mike's living room. It appeared as though just about everyone had gone home. He assumed Damien was in bed, as he was nowhere to be found. Only Mike and Shadow remained in the living room. They sat on the couch, looking exhausted. 

_"Some party, huh?" Mike smiled sleepily. _

"Yeah...mom knows how to throw em'." 

"Speaking of which, what time does April want you home?" 

"Doesn't matter. She said I could stay as long as I want. She knows I'm safe here." 

Mike just smiled again and rested his head back on the cushions. 

"Mike, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm practically grown up now." 

"Yes, I see that." His grin widened. "You're growing up to be quite a young lady." 

Shadow blushed at his comment and turned to face him. "I've learned my lesson. What I did before with Raph was foolish. I was rebelling. It was childish. I'm more mature than that now." 

"Good." Mike wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. "Cuz I was worried sick about you. You're very important to me, Shadow. You know that, right?" 

She nodded, and snuggled closer. "Yes, I know. And you're important to me too, Mike. That's what I wanted to talk to you about." 

Mike pulled away a little so he could look her in the face. "Is something wrong?" 

Again, she lowered her eyes. "No. Nothing's wrong, I just..." 

Mike laid a finger under her chin and lifted it gently until their eyes met. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything." 

She smiled faintly and bit her lip, forcing herself to look into those big brown eyes. "I just...there's something I've been wanting to do for a long time now, and..." 

"Yeah? What's that?" 

Shadow drew in closer, her lips brushing his. "This." 

The warmth of her mouth engulfed his, and Mike's eyelids lowered for a moment at the contact. It took him only seconds to register what was happening, however. He drew away quickly and stared at her in shock. "Shadow, I...what was that for?" 

She bit her lip again. "Mike, we've been friends for a long time...the best of friends. You've always been good to me, no matter what stupid thing I did." 

"Shadow?" 

"What I'm trying to say is...I love you." 

"Uhhh...yeah, I love you too, Shadow, but--" 

"No..." she sighed. "You don't understand." She searched his eyes, trying to decipher the emotions that were hidden there. "I mean, I really...love you." 

Mike took her hands in his, holding them tight. "I...Shadow..." 

She looked away. "It's okay, Mike. I just thought you should know." 

"Shadow...look at me, I--I'm twice your age." 

"I don't care how old you are, Mike..." 

"I...don't know what to say...I've never--I mean, you're like a daughter to me. I love you, Shadow. I love you very much. You mean the world to me, but...it's not like that. You understand, don't you?" 

She turned her head away from him, trying to hide her embarrassment and disappointment. "Yeah...yeah, I do..." 

Mike sighed uneasily. "Look, we're both tired, and I've been drinking. Why don't you go get some sleep, and we'll talk about this tomorrow when we're both in our right minds, okay?" 

"Okay." She rose to her feet, wanting nothing more now than to escape this trap she'd set for herself. Mike squeezed her hand, then let it go, watching in silence as she left. 

Once she was gone, he flopped down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. So much had happened in such a short time. This was almost too much to deal with. Was she really in love with him? The idea was almost unfathomable. He realized it was probably nothing more than a teenage crush, still, it made him uneasy. Shadow had always been the daughter he'd never had. How could she have developed such strong feelings so suddenly? He found himself actually feeling guilty for not being able to give her the response she had been hoping for. He loved her more than anything. The last thing he'd ever do was hurt her. 

"God, Shadow..." He whispered. He glanced toward the door she'd exited just moments ago, feeling a weight press down on him. Then he spotted the camera and its flashing red light. "Stupid thing...gonna have to erase that in the morning." He got up and walked toward the camera. Suddenly, Donatello was bathed in blackness. 

"I never knew..." Don gasped. "Wow...now things are really starting to make sense..." 

********

"The weeks wore on, and Raphael grew stronger. It took two months before he was able to stand or walk on his own. His wounds were still healing, and he was still in pain--both physical and emotional. He insisted, however, on getting up and doing things for himself. It was a very noble sentiment, but half the time, he ended up on his hands and knees on the floor, and we'd have to lead him back to the couch to lie down. I really didn't mind taking care of my brother. It was just so good to have him back. I wished Leonardo were there, so he could see Raphael's progress for himself, to have the peace of mind of knowing that Raph would be okay. 

"Things seemed different without him. There was an emptiness inside of me that I simply could not fill. I tried to occupy myself with books or the internet, but nothing seemed to satiate that void within me. It felt as though a part of me had died. I couldn't quite explain it then, but I think I felt Leonardo's absence--his death. That mental connection was severed forever when he left this world, and it left an emptiness in its wake that would forever linger." 

********

"It was December 20, 2001, five days before Christmas when it happened. I'd been sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks when I was awoken by arguing voices coming from the living area. My first instinct was that Leo had finally returned home, and he and Raph were back to normal, arguing over something petty. Then I realized as I listened, that it wasn't Leonardo's voice I heard, but Mike's. I rose from my bed quietly, trying not to alert them of my presence just yet. 

"When I found them, they were standing near the door. Raphael was already half dressed, while Michaelangelo pleaded with him, trying to stall him." 

Donatello lowered his head, his eyes welling up with tears. "I keep having this flashback again and again. I keep seeing them argue, watching Raphael push Mike's protests aside. I see those intense emotions burning in his eyes like hot coals--the thoughts and feelings he refused to express though they were eating him up inside. 

"They argued for a long time, Mike trying to coax Raph out of his angered stupor, Raphael determined for revenge. He blamed the Foot for so many things. He said it was their fault that all of the bad things had happened to him. They'd betrayed him, they drove him to drink. It was their fault he'd hurt Shadow and angered Leonardo. It was because of what they'd done to him that he'd been injured. It was ludicrous really. He'd left the Foot Clan years ago. How could they possibly be blamed for all of his mistakes? 

"Mike tried to coax him into staying, tried to get him to think about what he was doing. But Raphael would hear none of it. Blinded by his own rage, his own hurt, his mind was made up, and nothing Mike said made any difference whatsoever. 

"Finally, I could take no more. I left my hiding place in the shadows and faced Raphael. If he wouldn't listen to Michaelangelo, perhaps I could use logic to get him to listen to me. He wasn't very appreciative of my eaves dropping, but he told me about his mad plan for vengeance. And when I say mad, I mean completely insane. The Foot had stayed out of our business for over ten years now. In fact, it appeared that with the dwindling number of ninja still employed within the walls of their base, they weren't much of a threat at all. Still, he insisted that all of our anguish was because of them. He believed that that first fight with the Foot Clan over fifteen years ago would forever affect our lives. Perhaps it would, but not in the way Raphael envisioned it. He decided it was time to put a stop to the pain, to end the grief they'd caused, even if it resulted in his own demise. He sounded like a madman to me. 

"Not only were we concerned for his mental state, but for his physical state as well. The wound in his chest was severe. Mike had done a decent stitching job, but it would take several more weeks of rest and attention before it would even _begin_ to mend properly. The cut in his shoulder was healing nicely, but it too needed more time. We could tell he was still in great pain, and, although he was moving around better now, he was still weakened by his injuries. Only a month had gone by since he was first able to stand. How could he possibly expect to defeat his enemies in this condition, especially when the odds were stacked so great against him? 

"Finally, after getting his fill of our persuasions, Raphael stormed out. Mike and I exchanged little words before he left. The last thing I told him that night was to be careful. A feeling of dread and foreboding washed over me as I watched him go. Something bad was about to happen, I just knew it. Still, I couldn't leave Splinter." 

Don slumped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "Sometimes, I wish I would have, Chet. Things would be so different now..." 

********

"I really don't want to watch this...I really don't." Don's voice was trembling. He knew he had to though. If he didn't face it now, it would continue to haunt him, and his mind would never be free. He breathed deeply, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to witness. He sank to the floor and closed his eyes, his hands resting on his knees. He sucked in a breath and held it, then slowly let it go. He repeated the process a few more times before opening his eyes. 

"Okay...play it, Chet." 

_He found himself in a darkened alleyway. Most of the world had already gone to sleep. The windows in the buildings that towered above him were dark and lifeless. The only illumination was that which glowed dully from the nearby streetlights. It was bitterly cold. _

Michaelangelo and Raphael were up ahead, dressed in pants and coats for the winter weather. Raphael looked like he was in a big hurry for something. Poor Mike had to practically jog to keep up. He heard their voices, as he had in his dreams, Mike trying to convince him to go back, Raphael, strong-headed and determined. He saw Mike pause to gaze at the stars, heard him speak Leonardo's name, watched Raphael freeze in terror and fury. 

Don swallowed as he witnessed Raphael storm off again, Michaelangelo hot on his tail. He really didn't want to watch this. It was all too painful. Still, he couldn't bring himself to look away, not even for an instant. 

_He recognized the compound almost immediately. Dread filled him as he saw Raphael approach the guards. They began to argue, shouting words Donatello couldn't quite comprehend. He realized a few moments later that it was in Japanese, but the voices were so distorted, he couldn't make out most of what they were saying. Soon, their raised voices brought more ninja out from their hiding places. Michaelangelo was trying to coax Raphael to leave, but Raph ignored him, pushing him aside. Soon, a battle ensued. Hordes of Foot members surrounded them on all sides. Instantly, Raphael broke out into a bloodthirsty rage. His eyes glowed with an intensity that made Donatello cringe. Michaelangelo was standing to his right, a little reluctant to strike. He tried to persuade Raphael one last time, but it was too late. His brother was already on the move. Two bloody corpses lay at his feet, and he was driving his sai into another one's chest, dooming him to the same fate. _

Michaelangelo was suddenly attacked. Realizing that with Raph's actions there would be no way to convince them of his true intentions, he too began to fight. The Foot were swarming in by the dozens. Mike slid his nunchakus from his belt, and swirled them skillfully, taking out three of his attackers in the process. 

Raphael's chest ached something fierce. He felt a burning sensation, like liquid fire spread down his plastron. He spared a glance down, taking stock of the blood that was dribbling down from the wound. Some of the stitches had been busted open. Michaelangelo had warned him about this. Too bad he hadn't listened. 

He decided he couldn't dwell on it now. There wasn't time to think. The Foot had them surrounded and were closing in on all sides. He took a quick glance around, searching for Michaelangelo, but he couldn't find him anywhere. In seconds, his enemies were upon him again. It was fight or die, and Raphael knew which end he wanted to be on. Ignoring the pain, he readied himself, fury filling him, making him strong. 

A sword came down toward his right shoulder. He spun around, lifting his sai to block, barely managing to keep his attacker at bay. Metal clanged against metal as he pushed the ninja backward, then quickly drove his other sai into the man's gut. Still more advanced. He found himself quickly surrounded by three new Foot ninjas, each coming at him with weapons raised. 

Raphael did his best to fight off the hordes of Foot members that now entrapped him. Still, he was having a hard time simply blocking and keeping them from causing him major harm. As he threw kicks and punches, he began to realize how bad of an idea this really was. He should have listened to Mike and Don. He was weakening fast, and the loss of blood was doing nothing for his stamina. Mike was still nowhere in sight. 

"Shit" he breathed. The pain in his chest flared. "Gotta get out of here...where the hell's Mike?" 

More of the ninja attacked. Raphael rushed toward them, determined to put a quick end to this battle, his pain and fury nearly overcoming him. But his reflexes were too slow. Just as his sai sank into flesh, something sharp sank deep into his left shoulder. Paralyzed with pain, anger and fear, he dropped the sai and fell to the ground. 

Mike, witnessing his fall, rushed to his aid, flinging his 'chucks' like a madman. He knocked away several of the ninja who were surrounding his brother, getting ready to deliver the final blow that would end his life. 

**No,** Mike told himself. **It won't end like this...not after all we've done to save him.** 

Raphael wasn't moving. This was bad. He was lying silently in a pool of his own blood. Mike couldn't tell which was bleeding worse--the wound in his shoulder, or his freshly opened plastron. 

It was now or never, Mike knew. Within minutes, Raphael would bleed to death. He had to make a decision. Would he continue to fight, knowing that at any moment he could lose his brother again, and quite possibly his own life as well, or would he cut his losses and run away like a coward? Of course he chose the first. He could never leave Raphael in harm's way, no matter how severe the circumstances. 

Cursing silently, Mike thought about the skills Splinter had been teaching him since childhood--concentration, determination, focus. Gripping his trusty weapons, he hit his enemies like a ton of bricks, scattering them in every direction. He fought with a skill unmatched, knowing only one thing--he had to save Raphael's life. 

Distracted by their new foe, and presuming Raphael already dead, the Foot left him behind and focused their attention on Michaelangelo. Mike was good, there was no doubt about it, but he was beginning to tire. There were too many of them. How could Raph have possibly thought he could defeat them all by himself, especially in his condition? 

The chucks delivered a deadly blow to the Foot nearest him. Without hesitation, he turned to his right, sending a kick into another one's stomach, along with a blow to the head. The ninja fell to the ground. Mike whirled around, and was met with a punch to the shoulder. He staggered back, but quickly found his footing, and delivered a roundhouse kick to the man's jaw. As that one went down, eight more quickly took his place. It was getting to be too much. He couldn't possibly handle this entire group alone. 

A katana came flying toward him. He ducked just on time, barely missing the deadly blade as it whizzed over his head. These guys meant business. He could only wish that Don and Leo were there with him, or even Splinter, but he was alone. Knowing that he was severely outnumbered, he decided to try to reason with them. 

"Look guys..." He held up his hands, trying to show them he meant no harm. "I don't want to fight you." 

The Foot weren't buying it. They drew in a little closer. 

"This is all just a big misunderstanding. I was just trying to protect my brother. You know, the one down there." He pointed toward the ever-growing puddle of blood. "He didn't mean you any harm, he's just not in his right mind right now. He's sick and--" 

"Kill him!" one of the ninja shouted. 

Michaelangelo swallowed and readied himself again as the entire group began to swarm in. 

He was met with kicks and punches, more swift and severe than he'd encountered before. Obviously, the Foot too, decided they had a score to settle. It seemed that tonight, their life-long dissension was to be concluded once and for all. 

Mike lashed out a chuck in an over-hand maneuver, but as his hand came down to break bone, it was met with a swift kick, knocking the weapon away. Mike pulled in his hand, gripping it tightly. Pain shot down his finger and into his wrist. He knew right away that one of his knuckles had been shattered. Having only one good hand, and one weapon left, he continued to do his best to fight them off. 

He concentrated on using his feet. He kicked one in the shin, then knocked him out as he bent over. Another attacked from behind, chipping off a piece of Mike's shell. He yelled in pain, and turned on his assailant, punching him in the face. As the ninja staggered back, more swarmed in to take his place. 

Mike was tiring quickly, and the pain in his hand made it worse. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. A sai came at him, and he blocked, but as he did so, his other chuck was wrenched from his hand. Left to fight without weapons, he was easily subdued. The Foot closed in, trapping him within a circle of bodies and weapons. 

Raphael gasped, his chest aflame with pain. He could hardly breathe, let alone move. He heard the sound of the battle, still taking place nearby. Mustering all of his strength, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and took stock of the fight. He saw Michaelangelo now. He was surrounded entirely by Foot ninja. It appeared as though he had been disarmed. He was doing the best he could, but he was drained of energy, and appeared to be doctoring his right hand. Raph knew that Mike needed his help, but he wasn't sure if he could even stand up, let alone fight. 

Mike punched and kicked, knocking a few more of his enemies unconscious. Still, the group seemed to grow before his eyes. For each one that Mike knocked down, three more seemed to materialize in their place. One of the Foot crept up behind Michaelangelo, his sword raised for the kill. Raphael tried to scream out to warn him, but found he had no voice. As Mike turned to face the silent attacker, the world seemed to slow down. He watched in horror as the sword came down at an awkward angle, slicing into Mike's neck and down toward his shoulder. 

"**NOOOOOOO!**" Raphael had finally found his voice, but it seemed, it was too late. 

Donatello watched in horror as Michaelangelo slumped to the ground at his enemies' feet. Tears streamed down his face, his entire body shaking with grief. "I don't want to see this...God, I don't want to see this..." Still, he didn't command Chet to freeze the program. He kept his eyes on the scene, gritting his teeth against the pain that threatened to consume him. 

_In an instant, Raphael was on his feet and rushing toward the mob of Foot soldiers. Deadly rage contorted his features, rendering him almost unrecognizable. Don cringed as he watched him literally tear into the bodies that surrounded him. Blinded by fury and rage, he continued to knock them down, killing one after the other, until the pain in his chest became too much to bear. _

Finally, sorrow and defeat overtaking him, he slumped to the ground next to his fallen brother. "You bastards" he said softly. He knew it was over. They would kill him now and end this torment. But surprisingly, as he gripped Mike's arm with a clammy hand, the ninjas began to move away. Confused, he glanced up, finally noticing the figure of a woman, dressed in the armor of their old enemy, the Shredder. 

"Do it." He told her. "End it now. Do it quickly." 

But the figure didn't move. It just stood there for a long time, watching him in the darkness. No longer caring, he allowed the tears to stream down his face. All of his pent up anger, all of the rage dissipating as he cradled his fallen brother in his arms. 

The figure reached up and removed the helmet, allowing the shoulder length black hair to cascade down and frame her face. 

"Karai?" He breathed in fascination. 

A look of sorrow filled her features as she looked at him. "I'm sorry." She said softly. Those were the only words she spoke before she turned and walked away. The rest of the Foot followed her, leaving Raphael alone. 

"We could never be sure just what Karai meant by her apology that night, but Raphael told me later that it seemed as though she was saddened by what had transpired between our clans. I don't think she would have let her ninja hurt my brothers had she been there when the fight began, but by the time she called them off, it was already too late. Raphael had never known it was in fact she that had taken the Foot Clan from him. He'd heard several years previous that she'd lost leadership with the Japanese Foot, but only now was it starting to make sense." 

_Raphael was kneeling next to Michaelangelo. Donatello got a distinct sense of deja vu as he watched him fumble helplessly, unsure of what to do for his fallen brother. _

"Mike..." He had a grip on his shoulders and shook him gently. "Mike, come on...wake up. It's over." 

Michaelangelo's eyes slowly opened, and he gazed up at Raphael incoherently. 

"Oh thank God..." Raphael whispered. "Listen Mike, I--" 

"Raph, you're okay..." Mike wheezed. 

"Yeah, I'll be all right, and so will you. Do you think you can walk?" 

Michaelangelo coughed, blood spurting from his mouth. "You...gotta go...gotta get home...before... you make it worse." 

Raphael glanced down at his bloodied plastron, no longer caring what happened to him. The only thing that mattered now was Mike. "Don't worry about me, okay? Come on, we gotta get you up..." He laid his hands under Michaelangelo, struggling to get him into a sitting position. Mike coughed up some more blood. Raphael knelt there silently, watching as it coated the pavement. 

**He's bleeding internally. Shit, this is bad...** 

"Mike, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry I did this to you..." 

His brother just stared at him in confusion. It was a very rare occasion when Raphael apologized. 

"Raph, it's...not your fault..." Mike's eyes were fighting to close. 

"Don't fall asleep, Mike, come on." Raphael smacked Mike's cheeks, just enough to keep him awake. "We gotta get you home." 

"No...Raph...not gonna make it...you go..." 

"Come on," Raph said gently. "That's foolish talk. Of course you're gonna make it. Look at me. I pulled through, didn't I? Now come on, you gotta try to stand." 

Mike shook his head gently, coughing up more blood. His eyes closed and Raphael shook him firmly. "I...Raph?" 

"Yeah, Mike...what is it?" 

"Make sure...Donnie and Splinter know..." 

"Mike?" 

"Make sure...they know that...I love them..." 

"Mike..." 

"Make sure that Damien..." He went into another coughing fit. "Keep him...safe." 

"You can tell them all of that yourself, Mike. Now come on. We gotta get you out of here or we'll freeze to death." 

"Raph...?" 

Raphael knelt in closer, searching Michaelangelo's deep brown eyes. They seemed shallow to him, like they were missing that usual sparkle. He felt something hot on his cheeks and realized he was crying again. 

**He's not gonna make it...shit...what do I do?** 

He swallowed, and mustered his courage, trying not to show Michaelangelo his fear. "Yeah?" 

"I...love you." 

Raphael gripped his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I love you too, buddy." 

"Chet...freeze program." Donatello said softly. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared at the frozen forms of his brothers. 

"Michaelangelo died right there in Raphael's arms, away from the rest his family, and everyone else who'd ever cared about him. It wasn't right. That's not the way it was supposed to be." His voice rose to an agonizing cry. "Dammit! He wasn't supposed to die! Not like that." He lowered his eyes, allowing the tears to fall at his feet. Sobbing, his voice grew quiet again. "He deserved so much more. My little brother...it's so unfair..." 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER NINE**

  


  


_Seems like only yesterday  
But it started long ago  
Trials tribulations  
And notes in the autumn nights _

We didn't know way back then  
What brothers we really were  
Letting the time pass quickly  
And watching it go 

But we stood together  
And we made each other strong  
We tried to comfort ourselves when the nights were long  
And we held back the tears  
When they needed to flow  
But where we once stood lie only footprints in the snow 

Even when it was hard  
To find a smiling face  
And when others would leave us  
Without a trace 

We never thought about tomorrow  
Or what she might bring  
We never stopped to realize  
That we might not always sing 

Seems like only yesterday  
God where'd the time go  
Where we once laughed lie only tears in the snow 

"Footprints in the Snow" - Vertical Horizon 

  


  
**_The Right Effort..._**  
_Mike? Be careful... _

Tell them...I love them... 

Come on Raph...come **on**... 

I...I **killed** him... 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! 

  
Don bolted upright in bed, sweat dripping off his forehead. He shut his eyes again quickly, trying to force the images out of his mind. They played before him, one by one, a haunting scene of terror and agony--his warning to Mike...Mike's last request...the two of them pleading at Raphael to come back to them...Leonardo's tortured confession...a half-dead Raphael, staggering into the lair, tears streaming down his face as he cradled his brother's corpse. It felt as though his heart was breaking all over again as he relived this anguish. The dream had continued to torment him until he could take no more. 

It was the first time in days that he dared to try to sleep, and his efforts had proven to be more harmful perhaps than beneficial. He threw the sheets back and left the mattress hastily, stumbling to the kitchen to perform his morning ritual. 

"Chet--" 
    
    ^^COFFEE?^^

Suddenly, he was bathed in soft light. Squinting toward the large monitor on the wall, Don couldn't help but smile. How proficient Chet was, and to think, he'd built it himself. 

"Yes, please. And make it black." 

He slumped into a chair at the table and glanced out the window. It was still dark. The sun probably wouldn't be rising for another couple of hours. He propped his head up with his hand, staring at the tiny pinpoints of stars. No constellations were recognizable from this distance, but Donatello knew they were up there somewhere--Orion, Scorpio, Pegasus... 

Again, he recalled Mike's reference to Leo and Raphael as the 'Great Hunter' and the scorpion. The winged horse--heroic and free, reminded Don of Michaelangelo. The thought of his brothers sent the pain rushing back at him full force. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to think of something else--_anything_ to take away the anguish. 

_Ding_
    
    ^^YOUR COFFEE IS READY, DONATELLO. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO--^^

"I'll get it. Thanks, Chet." 

He rose to pour himself a cup, not bothering to sit as he drank it greedily. Once the mug was empty, he poured himself another and made his way back to the table. 

_Sometimes I think I should have taken up something stronger..._

Then the haunting memories of all that had happened as a result of Raphael's drinking came rushing back to him, and he thought the better of it. What a frightening, terminal turn life had taken. Again, he saw his brothers, both covered in blood--one nearly dead on his feet, the other cradled limply in his arms, and he shuddered. 

"We buried him out at the farmhouse." His voice was barely above a whisper. "It was a cold day...so very cold..." 

_The drive had been long and agonizing, but they'd finally made it. Doing his best to hold back his tears, yet failing miserably, Don helped Splinter and Casey lift the coffin out of the back and carry it to the porch. The entire ground was covered in snow. It numbed Donatello's feet painfully as he walked, but he ignored it. His soul, too, had been dulled with hurt and loss, like the icy paralysis of the frozen landscape around him. Nothing mattered anymore. _

Raphael stayed far behind the others, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, head down. The only reason he'd come at all was because Splinter had made him. He wished he could be anywhere but here. This place brought back too many memories. Seeing the coffin that contained his brother carried too much pain. He looked away, keeping his distance, trying to focus on the freshly falling snow. 

He couldn't face them. He'd allowed his brother to be killed. Worse yet, it was over something not worth fighting for. He realized now what a fool he'd been. But it was too late. Michaelangelo--his little brother was dead, and **he** was responsible for that. If only he'd listened. If only he'd heeded their persuasions. He should have known that Mike wouldn't let him go out alone. His brother died trying to protect him. His stubbornness had gotten in the way--the intense longing to succeed...to overcome. 

**I'm just like Leonardo...** 

The thought sent chills up his spine. He pulled the collar higher around his neck and stomped off toward the woods, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed up within its isolating depths. 

********

"We stood around his coffin for the longest time, just staring at one another helplessly. None of us knew what to say or do--we didn't know where to _begin_. I couldn't even gather my wits about me enough to form a coherent thought. I think the finality of it all is what really got to me. He was dead...gone, and nothing any of us did could ever bring him back. 

"I glanced from face to face, trying to find some comfort, some solace, but only anguish greeted me. Shadow's face was a mask of hurt and regret. Her cheeks were streaked with a flow of never-ending tears. Her grief seemed unrelenquishable. I longed to pull her into my arms, to tell her that everything would be all right, but that was impossible. The truth was already too tangible. Things would never be the same again. 

"Casey seemed to be holding up rather well. He had put on his best apathetic face, but behind those hardened eyes, I saw sorrow and compassion. He and Mike had shared many adventures, and although he wasn't as close to him as he was to Raph, the emptiness of his loss was something he simply could not deny. Mike had always seen us through the hard times. Where was he now when we needed him most? 

"April was completely distraught. For all practical purposes, she'd helped raise us during the last of our teenage years. She was like a big sister, a surrogate mother. She and Mike had been very close. His death impacted her as powerfully as if it had been a member of her immediate family. 

"Damien was still young, but he was old enough to understand the concept of death. He realized that Michaelangelo would never be returning. He was solemn, saying nothing as he stood near the grave. His silence was almost deafening. My heart broke for that kid. Finally, his wish for a family had come true, and now the one he was closest to--the one who loved him like a father, was gone. And it had happened so suddenly. 

"Then there was Splinter. I could barely manage to look into his face, let alone form the words to speak to him. There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him...how much _Mike_ had loved him, how sorry I was that all of this had happened. I think deep down, he knew those things anyway. Although he tried to keep that calm air about him, inside, turmoil was brewing. He'd come so close to losing Raphael, only to see another of his sons die so violently. 

"The world isn't fair." Don lowered his head. "Why us, ya know? Why did it all have to happen at once? When would it end?" 

_April handed Donatello a box of kleenex. Her eyes were red and puffy from all of the tears she had already shed. Between her and Shadow, an entire box had been used up before they ever reached Northampton. As the container was passed, it emptied quickly. Many tears were shed that day over the kind-hearted, joyous soul they'd known as Michaelangelo. _

As Splinter moved to stand before everyone, a bitter snow began to fall, adding a sense of despair to it all. Don stared at his sensei empathetically, watched the sorrow fall over his face. His voice was gentle, yet lined with edginess--an unrelenting anguish that filled them all. 

"Michaelangelo was a very special person, indeed." 

A chorus of sniffles and sobs rose amidst the small gathering. 

"Not only was he a loving and caring student, but his gentleness and compassion branched out to touch all that knew him. He was a brother, a friend, and a son, and he shall be greatly missed." 

It was all Splinter could say before he broke down. Donatello and April rushed to his side as his legs gave way, nearly sending him to the ground. They lowered him gently to the snow, embracing one another, seeking comfort in each other's arms. Casey held Shadow tight while she sobbed into his shoulder, her wails of agony echoing across the frozen landscape. Splinter reached for Damien and pulled him close, reassuring him as best he could that things would be okay. April wasn't so sure she believed that. She'd seen what had happened when Leo disappeared and when they thought Raphael was dead. Now that one of their own was actually being buried, she couldn't help but wonder what would become of them all. 

Far in the distance, among the maze of moss and leaves that shadowed the woods, Raphael stood, leaning against the trunk of a giant tree. His heart wrenched as he witnessed his family's torment. He longed to go them, but he couldn't. He couldn't face what he'd done. He couldn't let them see the overwhelming emotions he was carrying inside. Instead, he remained where he was, alone, his cheeks burning with fresh tears. 

**It'll never be the same...** 

Don reached into the box Chet had dropped on the table the previous night, and wiped his eyes with one of the tissues. "As we lowered his coffin into the ground, Splinter chanted a few things in Japanese--prayers for his soul mostly. I always wondered what it would feel like to die, to feel the psyche leave the body. I guess Michaelangelo was finally able to answer that age-old question. Too bad he couldn't come back and share the secret with the rest of us. 

"I remember the last words Splinter said before we laid him to rest, and they're still a comfort to me, even to this day. _'Death is just another stage in the cycle of life. Though he is gone, he will live forever in our hearts...'_ And he always has." 

********

"We decided to stay at the farmhouse for a while. It was expected that the break from civilization would prove beneficial to us all. I was grateful for the retreat. It gave me time to collect my thoughts, to get to know myself again after all I'd endured. The nights were the hardest. The air up there was so still, I could almost hear my own heartbeat. It was an empty, lonely quiet that gnawed at my very soul. With silence came thought, and with thought, bitter reminders of what I had lost. If not for the company of the chirping crickets, I might have gone completely insane. 

Raphael stayed away entirely during the daylight hours, only returning home at night after everyone else was safely tucked into bed. I presume the turmoil over losing Michaelangelo was just too much for him. He blamed himself, and despite our reassurances to the contrary, he wouldn't allow himself to accept anything but his own failure. To be quite honest, there was something inside of me that held him responsible too, a deep-rooted sense of betrayal that wouldn't allow me the freedom to forgive him. It's taken me all of this time to finally realize what I'd been carrying around for all of these years. I think now I might finally be able to set the hurt and blame aside. It was never Raphael's intention for Michaelangelo to be wounded. He was his best friend for godsake." 

Donatello stared down at the table, a war of emotions battling inside of him. "I understand now what it was that killed my little brother. It was us..._all_ of us--our constant fighting, our carelessness, that brotherly bond we seemed to have lost somewhere along the way..." 

A sob racked his body, and he buried his face in his hands, allowing the warm tears to wet his palms. 

"We were so strong once, nothing could tear us apart. We were a team, a _family_. God...what happened to us?" 

After draining two more cups of coffee, Don stood and paced to the window, glancing out at a slowly lightening sky. It carried with it a new memory, one that brought more hurt and sorrow. 

"When we returned home, nothing seemed to change. Raphael remained distant, even cold. Whenever I tried to talk to him, I was met with silence or a foreboding look that told me not to press the issue. That was on the rare occasion I even _saw_ him. As time passed, he made himself more and more scarce. Sometimes he stayed closed up in his room all day, music blaring, as if he was trying to shut out the entire world. I attempted to go to him, to make peace, but each time, I was greeted with either opposition or renunciation. Trying to get him to open up was a lost cause. Most of the time, he left us by ourselves. He would stay out for days, not even bothering to call or drop in so we would know he was okay. 

"Splinter made the effort to talk to him a few times, but it was clear that Raphael was only listening out of respect. The words didn't penetrate. He couldn't absorb them. He never said anything in response, even in his own defense. As soon as the lecture ended, he would stalk off again to be alone somewhere. My master eventually gave up. Not that I blame him. He was getting too old to deal with such stress. It was pointless anyway. Raphael refused to listen. 

"That was my biggest pet peeve about my brother." Don sighed. "He was so selfish. Why couldn't he have seen the way we were hurting? He should have known he wasn't alone. Why couldn't he have at least made the effort to help us salvage what little there was left of our family? How I longed to piece things together again, to feel that bond--that _strength_ we once had. But it was no use. Things were destined for disaster. Such is the way of my life. 

"He and Shadow disappeared almost simultaneously. Some said that the two of them ran off together, but I never believed that was true. Now that I understand what went on between her and Mike, I can only theorize that it hurt too much to be around us. Even her own parents were a reminder of him. 

"The day she left, she gave no indication of her intent. She got up, ate breakfast, kissed Casey and April goodbye, and went to school. The day dragged on with no sign of her. Soon, the afternoon turned to evening, and as darkness fell, we began to realize that she wasn't coming home. April was an awful mess after that. She worried that Shadow had been kidnapped--or worse. We were all concerned for her safety. She was only fifteen. Casey must have had half the police force in New York searching for her. About three weeks later, she finally phoned. She told Casey that she loved us, but there were things she needed to work out. She refused to tell him her location, and always called from a different pay phone so it wouldn't be easy to track her. She insisted that she was safe and in no danger. He tried to persuade her to come back, and she finally promised she would some day soon." Don bit his lip. "She never did. 

"I know Casey and April passed from this world years ago. Human beings don't live as long as turtles, and the stress they went through hindered their health. But my hope is that Shadow, and her brother Justin, are still alive somewhere. I've spent the last thirty years of my life trying to track Shadow down. I can only hope that this time, my lead was accurate. 

"Speaking of which..." Donatello glanced at the desktop computer. "Any word yet, Chet?" 
    
    ^^NO DONATELLO...MY INTERNAL MEMORY INDICATES ZERO NEW EMAIL MESSAGES^^

"Damn..." He sighed and stared longingly at the blank computer screen, desperately hoping that all was not lost. Thirty-nine years was an awfully long time. 

"A couple of days following Shadow's disappearance, I awoke to find that Raphael was not in his bed. That was no real surprise. It was the fourth time in two weeks he'd vanished without an explanation. This time was different, however. Both of his sai were gone, as well as his coat and hat. At first I figured he'd gone topside during the night and had been forced to seek shelter when the sun began to rise. If that was the case, he would probably find his way home soon enough. But then I realized that some other things were missing too--the old pair of spare nunchuks Mike kept in the lair, three or four cans of food, a couple of blankets. Aside from those few belongings, he'd left everything relatively untouched. An eerie feeling crept over me, an overwhelming sense of deja vu. I'd already lived this nightmare when Leo left. Something that told me Raphael wasn't coming back. 

"His disappearance filled me with anxiety. I couldn't be sure of his intentions, but I had a nagging suspicion he might try to end it all. He was the most irrational person I had ever known, and with the severity of his depression, I knew he was capable of just about anything. Still, there was a glimmer of hope inside that he wouldn't commit seppuku as Leo had most likely done. Although outwardly, Raphael was a mask of bravery and audacity, I wasn't so sure that those attributes reached deep enough to enable him to take his own life. 

"As days went by, I decided he wasn't dead. He couldn't be. I could still feel his essence somehow. Our mental connection, no matter how strained, would never be completely severed. We were still brothers after all--brothers that had once been so united, nothing could tear us apart. Once in a while, I would find a quiet place away from everything and everyone, and meditate on him. I managed to find a link on occasion. I would feel just a hint of anger or frustration, but it was enough to tell me that he was still with us. Slowly, those sensations began to fade, until one day, I could feel nothing of him at all." 

Don paused, gazing out at the sunlit hillside. 

"I assume he died of loneliness, or maybe severe depression. I'm not sure. For all I know, he was murdered. He always _was_ quick tempered and fast acting. He probably got into a fight, and, still weakened from his injuries, was unable to fend off his attackers alone. In any case, it saddens me to think that he faced death in solitude, refusing his own family to surround himself with strangers." 

********

"Damien stayed down in the sewers with me and Splinter for several months. I knew he deserved better living conditions, but April and Casey already had their hands full, and I didn't dare step foot in Mike's apartment. Living there would be impossible for me. There were too many things to remind me of him. The underground tunnels where we'd once laughed and played as children weren't much of a comfort in themselves, but at least it was familiar territory. 

"I took care of him during that time, nurturing him when he needed attention, making sure he ate his meals, bestowing upon him my academic knowledge. I had made a promise, the day we buried Michaelangelo, to protect Damien from harm and to raise him like a son. God, how unsuccessful I was. Somehow, Child Services tracked him to April's house where he was playing while I napped. Despite April's harsh protests, they took him away. I never saw him again. 

"Splinter was still with me, yet I was alone. The child I'd begun to grow attached to had been stolen right out from under me. My brothers were gone. I was the last of my kind. What an eerie, terrifying feeling to know that after I died, my breed would cease to exist. I began to have mad fantasies about trying to reproduce the mutagen that transformed us. I could gather up some baby turtles--but no...it was nonsense, all of it. I finally had to come to terms with myself and realize that this was it--I was all I had, and it was up to _me_ to decide where things would go from here. 

"Splinter was getting steadily worse. He had no discernable disease as far as I could tell, but old age was taking its toll. His bones and organs were beginning to fail him, and he was tired all the time. He grew quiet toward the end, almost melancholy. My heart broke whenever I looked into his eyes. I could see all of the pain and regret they contained. He told me once that he blamed himself for all that had happened. If only he hadn't raised us to be warriors. But I thanked him. He had given us a purpose, a reason for being, and that to me, was the greatest gift I'd ever received. 

"Sorrow was getting the best of both of us. Our underground home was so empty and void of life. Every day, I relived memories from my past--parties, practical jokes and laughter, mixed with battles, arguments and death. The pain seemed to outweigh the joy, and I sunk deeper into despair. 

"_'A father should never outlive his sons.'_" Splinter kept pointing out. I knew his pain. I'd certainly never figured I would be the last one living. In my mind, that had always been Leo's job. 

"As the weeks passed, I witnessed Splinter's slow descent. It was only a matter of time before he would leave me as well. I begged him not to go. I did everything possible to prolong his life, but in the end, you cannot avoid the inevitable. One evening, when I went into his room to bring him dinner, I realized he was gone. He was laying against the pillows, his head hanging limp by his shoulder, eyes shut. I could feel nothing of him but a calm silence. It was the most peaceful I'd seen him in a very long time. 

"My master died on a cool February evening, fourteen months after Michaelangelo left this world. With his death, my destiny was complete. I was the last living member of my clan. I thought back to a time, years ago, when Splinter told me that someday, I would go to Japan to bury him. I hadn't realized then that he was telling me I would be going alone. 

"I gathered up my tools and computer, and various other things of importance, and went to say goodbye to April and Casey. It was a very emotional time. I was their last link to my brothers and Splinter--to everyone and everything we knew and loved, and they in return, were mine. But I needed this journey, even more so than I realized. April asked me not to go. How I longed to be able to do that _one_ thing for her, to finally see a glimmer of happiness in her face after so much sorrow, but I had to deny her plea. It was my duty to fulfil Splinter's request. It was all I could do to ensure that his soul would be at peace. They asked me if I'd be returning. I told them the truth--I didn't know. They seemed to understand my reasons. I could only hope they'd forgive me if we never saw each other again. 

"On my way out that night, as I said goodbye to my friends and my home, I decided to take a piece of each of them with me. Though they were no longer in my life, I would keep something to remember them by. 

"I took Raphael's barbells. He'd been so attached to those things. I also gathered all of the videotapes I could find under his bed. I dared to go into Leo's room for the first time since he'd disappeared. Everything was in order, just as it was the morning he left. I took his lone sword and the scabbards he kept them in, along with his journal. To honor Splinter's memory, I packed his incense burner and the Japanese scrolls he'd been so fond of. 

"Mike's apartment proved the most difficult. As soon as I entered, grief overwhelmed me, and I could hardly bring myself to search through his abandoned belongings. I found his diary in a desk drawer, along with a copy of the book he'd gotten published. Mine had been misplaced several years previous, and I hadn't really taken the time to read much of it. Perhaps its pages would keep me company on the long journey ahead. 

"After collecting everything together, I took one final look at the underground tunnels I had once called home, and left without ever looking back. 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER TEN**

  


  


_ So here we are, or rather, here I am, quite alone,  
I'm seeing things that were shared before, long ago...  
my memory stretches and I am dazed: you know I know  
how good the time was and how I laughed...  
Times have changed, now you're far away, I can't complain:  
I had all my chances but they slipped right through my hands-  
like so much sand;  
I know I'll never dance like I used to _

I'll just wait till day breaks upon the land and the sea.  
hoping that I can catch all of the memories,  
then I must crawl off upon my way, all of me  
listening hard for the final words.  
But there are none; the sunrise calls, I've lingered on  
too close for comfort and I don't know quite why  
I feel like crying-  
I know we'll never dance like we used to. 

I look up, I'm almost blinded by the warmth of what's inside me  
and the taste that's in my soul,  
but I'm dead inside as I stand alone... 

"Lost" - Peter Hammill 

  


  
**_The Right Mindfulness..._**  
_It was a secluded hilltop. Darkness shadowed the land. A faint breeze was blowing, but not strong enough to deter him from his work. Donatello lifted the body carefully, laying it atop the enormous pile of wood he'd collected. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the face of the rat who had once loved and cared for him as a father. His face was so peaceful in death. He could only hope that his master was no longer suffering. _

He began to chant a familiar Buddhist proverb. "Even the gorgeous royal chariots wear out; and indeed this body too wears out. But the teaching of goodness does not age; and so Goodness makes that known to the good ones." 

He struck a match, holding it between his fingers, watching it numbly as it began to burn. 

"You were always kind to me, master Splinter. You taught me about life and what it means to really love someone. You instructed me in the ways of honor. You gave me a home...a family. I will be forever grateful to you for all you have provided me. Go in peace. I will never forget you." 

He lit the wood and stepped back, watching as the pile went up in flames. The heat from the fire washed over his skin, bathing him in warmth. The crackling sound of splintering branches echoed all around him. He closed his eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely down his cheeks as he let out a gut-wrenching sob. The night seemed to close in around him as his wails of anguish pierced the darkness. 

  
"I gathered his ashes in an urn the next morning, and carried them to the highest hillside in Chihaya. As I set them free, a gentle wind carried them, spreading them out as far as the eye could see. I whispered a final farewell and gazed off into the distance. A lone tree dotted the hillside. Some of the ashes seemed to journey that way, falling to their final resting place beneath it. I decided to use that spot as his burial ground, the place I would return to when I wished to pay my respects. The following spring, new flowers bloomed where the ashes had fallen. I like to think that it's Splinter's way of telling me he's still with me somehow. 

"I don't know much about reincarnation. Splinter taught us all about that sort of thing--his Buddhist beliefs, new life, the eight-fold path--but still, there is so much I don't understand. I admit, it's a comfort to believe that after we die, we can then be reborn to something new and better--a second chance if you will, but I don't know if I can truly grasp that concept entirely. It's weird...sometimes I feel as though my brothers are right here with me, guiding me, protecting me...almost as if I could reach out and touch them if I tried desperately enough. And then, in a rush of common sense, I return to the here and now and realize that it's simply not possible. 

"Scientifically speaking, I have a hard time swallowing the idea that after we are physically gone, our spirit can enter a new body. The idea has always fascinated me however, and I've read many case studies on the subject. There are several supposed 'true life' stories about adults, and even children remembering past lives. But I have no memory of such things. Maybe I am doomed to a different fate than humanity. Perhaps there is no place for reptiles in that cosmic wheel. Yet then, why do some believe that they can return in animal form? Could it be that I am only experiencing my initial existence? That when I die I will get a chance to be reborn in a human body? Perhaps this life of hiding and poverty and anguish is only a test to prepare me for the wonders that lie ahead. I find comfort in those thoughts. 

"Who knows what _really_ lies beyond the here and now. When our physical bodies die, what happens to the soul? No one living has ever been able to discover death's secret. I hope Splinter is right though. I'd like to think that somewhere in this world, my brothers are thriving and growing, and that maybe, just maybe...they're happy. 

"But perhaps there's a heaven, with one, all powerful God sitting on a throne somewhere in the sky, waiting for us all. A place where everything is perfect, and there is nothing but joy. When I die, I will be reunited with my family at last. That thought is even _more_ comforting somehow. But I've been told that animals don't go to heaven. They have no soul to save. Would God then turn me away? And if there is a God--if he or she does exist, why does he allow such suffering?" 

Don sat quietly for a moment, pondering the possibilities. There had to be an answer somewhere, there just _had_ to be. 

"In any case," he said at last. "it's been about a year since I've been up there last. My business has really kept me busy. I know that's not a good excuse. It's just that every time I go there, I'm reminded of...of everything. And I've tried so hard to forget, Chet. It's taken me _years_ to put it all behind me. I didn't want to see the truth to what's happened. I didn't want to face my weaknesses, the faults of my brothers. But I know now that I was foolish. For the first time in my life, I've forced myself to face the things I thought were impossible to bear, and now I can finally understand the reasons, even if they are painful to grasp. Though they're dead and gone, my family has always come first. Perhaps I'll go there tonight after the sun sets. 

"My biggest regret is that I never got a chance to tell any of them what they really meant to me. They were the most important things in my life. They made me who I am, and they are still very much alive inside of _me_. They will always be a part of me. 

"Leo's determination inspires me. It gives me a reason to go on. Just as Mike had done so many years ago as he gazed up at the stars, I find myself looking to his memory for guidance and strength. Raphael's shortcomings push me to be wiser, to rise above his careless mistakes and think before I act. It is this ability to think concisely that has aided me in so many of life's little challenges. But he also taught me not to be afraid to be myself, no matter what anyone else thinks. Michaelangelo...he taught me to love myself, even when no one else can. He taught me to find the beauty in things around me, to love others unconditionally. 

"I can now face the truth of my existence. My family--the brothers and mentor who were so much like me, so much a part of me--are dead, and I'm alone. There will be no one to carry on my lineage, no one to mourn for me when I'm gone. It's been so long since I've allowed myself the opportunity to grieve. I guess I should thank you, Chet. It was your A.I. program that brought about these memories to begin with." 
    
    ^^YOU ARE WELCOME, DONATELLO...^^

Don grinned. _So polite, too..._

"You know...after Splinter's burial, I really began to feel sorry for myself. It felt as though with the spreading of his ashes, my entire life was sent asunder. I couldn't understand why, after all that had happened to me, I was forced to exist in such a manner. I had no one to talk to, nothing to keep my mind occupied during the long hours that filled the weeks ahead. I kept dwelling on the memory of my brothers, thinking about how _wrong_ all of it was. How could they all have left me? How dare they die and leave me to mourn by myself? It wasn't fair, and as the days dragged on, I found myself slipping into a deep depression. 

"I felt so completely and utterly alone. I was the last. No one would ever understand me again. I was an outcast, more so than I'd ever been in New York with my brothers. Everything I had ever known or loved was gone. I was forced to start over in a strange new land. Everything was foreign to me. I didn't know where to go at first, what to do. Splinter had told me before he died that I would find the way. I wasn't sure I believed that. At the time, I wasn't even sure I cared. 

"I didn't want to live anymore. I couldn't go on without them. It felt as though I was just an empty shell, roaming about the earth aimlessly, without a reason or purpose. Quite simply, I wanted to die. I couldn't endure the pain of loss and loneliness that consumed me. It was like a cancer, eating away at me from the inside out. 

"At first, I took up shelter in the wooded areas, seeking refuge among the trees. But soon I realized that the meager berries and occasional rabbit I found for dinner weren't enough to keep me going. The cover of the leaves and branches wouldn't be sufficient to protect me against the cold chill of winter. I had to seek shelter elsewhere if I wanted to survive. The question was--did I? 

"I thought about my brothers, my sensei, the friends I'd left behind. I thought about them a _lot_. What would Leo, or even Raphael have done in my situation? They would have stuck it out. They would have carried on, because, quite frankly, both were too stubborn to give up so easily. Mike, he would have taken it very hard. Our deaths probably would have pushed him very close to the edge, but I think in the end, he too, would have persevered. He would have found some glimmer of hope somewhere--a treasured memory, anticipation for the future, and he would have picked himself up again. He would have kept going for _us_...for our memory, to keep that final piece of our existence alive. And so, I too, finally pulled myself out of my despair and moved forward. 

"It was hard at first, agonizing. I became mindful of everything that Splinter had taught me. I remembered his words, his teachings about forgiveness, about getting out of life what I put into it. I still wasn't sure I knew what that meant exactly. Still, I pushed on, trying to find a purpose to my life, seeking out the answers I knew might never come. 

"I think I finally understand what Splinter meant all those years ago. I've been blaming myself for things I can not change, events that were beyond my control. I've been accusing my brothers of leaving me, for doing things that caused their own deaths. _Leo should have never lashed out at Raphael. He should have learned to control his temper. Mike shouldn't have gone out with Raph that night. __I_ should have gone instead. If only Mike had let me go with them. But wasn't that why I'd loved him so much? He always put others before himself, and that attribute is what ultimately got him killed. _Raph...damn him. To hell with all of the drinking and irresponsibility. He should have allowed us to care about him. Why couldn't he see what he was doing to us?_

"And me...perhaps I'm the worst one of all. I didn't stop any of it. I _tried_--oh god how I tried...but...I failed. And now _I'm_ the one still living. I don't deserve to be here. I did nothing to help any of them. I'm the one that should have lost his life." 

Don sank into the sofa, sobbing softly. Anguish and loss and deep regret flooded through him. All of this time, he'd been blaming them for what had happened, when he should have been blaming himself. 

_Wait a minute...there wasn't anything I could have done to prevent it..._

The realization hit him, and he looked up, his cheeks glistening with tears. 

"I couldn't have put an end to it. I didn't know how. Raph was Raph, Leo was Leo, Mike was Mike...they all reacted to things the only way they knew how. Just as I did. I can't blame them for what happened. I can't blame myself. Splinter used to say that nothing happens without a reason. Life is a ring--a never-ending cycle of twists and turns, life and death. It was their turn to die. It was inevitable. I doubt anything any of us did could have prevented it. Apparently, _my_ work on this earth isn't finished yet. There has to be something greater I was destined to accomplish. I have yet to figure out what that is." 

********

"Once I'd made up my mind that I couldn't hide out in the woods forever, I began to search for a house. It was interesting how I managed to find this place so effortlessly. I was strolling along one evening, all wrapped up in a sweater and coat, a hat pulled low over my eyes to conceal as much as I could, when I stumbled upon the 'For Sale' sign. It was a total dump, not much more than a broken down shack, still it was shelter, and at the time, it was a very beautiful sight. The lady who owned it spoke no English, so we had to discuss the particulars in Japanese, and she kept staring at me the whole time, as if she was worried that I had something to hide. I told her that I had been feeling ill lately, so I stayed bundled up whenever I was outdoors. She appeared skeptical, but she seemed to accept my explanation. 

"The price she asked was fair, and actually very reasonable. She explained that her husband was getting ready to retire and they wanted to sell the house quickly. I paid her in cash, from Mike's book royalties. It's a real shame he didn't get a chance to enjoy all of that money, but I was sure he would want me to put it to good use. To me, that meant minimizing my vulnerability and maximizing my safety. Well...safety is a relative word I suppose. 

"Once the transaction was complete, I moved in immediately. It wasn't much at first--small kitchen with worn out pipes, a bathroom that was barely big enough for a toilet and stand up shower, and I slept on the floor. Still, it was mine, and it was the closest thing to a real house I'd ever had. It definitely had its quirks, however. The plumbing needed to be totally replaced. I started to feel cramped in the small space. Some of the structure itself was beginning to wear out and crumble. 

"I began to fix up the place. With the money I had left over from the purchase of the house, I bought wood, piping, paint, and various other tools and necessities. I worked alone, always in the shadow of night. It was grueling work, but it really paid off." He glanced around the room--at the large windows, the high ceilings, the immaculate kitchen, all of the electrical devices built into walls and countertops. "I built the perfect house. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be living above ground, out in the open, in a place as nice as this. 

"Once my life was back in order, I hooked up my computer and got online for the first time in almost a year. I searched through job postings all over the Osaka area, wondering how I would _ever_ fit in at a company filled with humans. Finally, I came to a decision. I'd start my own company--creating webpages, building databases, writing programs, you name it. I advertised all over the internet, so there was no need for personal, face-to-face contact with anyone. I opened a bank account and invested in stocks. My business flourished. Soon, I had more money than I knew what to do with. 

"That's when I began to build you, Chet. All my life, I'd envisioned a creation like you--a sort of super computer that could do anything I asked it. Many times as a child, I laid awake at night, fantasizing about how great it would be if I had a computer that could take me far away, transport me wherever I wanted to go. You may not be that technologically advanced, but with your alternate reality programming, I can travel wherever I want to be without even leaving my living room. Heh heh...kinda funny when you think about it. God, I've lost track of how many computer systems just like you I've sold with that slogan. '_Travel the world, without leaving the comfort of your own home!_' It must be in the thousands by now. 

"As technology continued to develop at a rapid pace, I built a holo device to disguise myself on those rare occasions I had to venture into public. My trenchcoat and hat wearing days were at an end. It was such an exhilarating feeling to walk among humans and not be treated any differently than they. The contacts I met in person seemed most impressed with my ability to explain how things function so succinctly. They called me a 'people person'...geeze, if only they knew how ironic that was. I would bring models of my latest prototypes, and before I could even begin to explain what their function was, my clients were slapping money down on the table. My company was growing fast--almost quicker than I could keep up with. I had to buy an office building and hire employees. That building branched out into more, and soon, Hamato Enterprises became one of the most successful companies in the world. I had fame and fortune. I could do anything I wanted, be anything I wished to become. 

"But for all of my success, I still felt empty inside. There was a void in my life that money simply could not fill. I missed them. It was hard enough to bear the days, when I was busy building and dreaming up new inventions and answering phones. The nights were even worse. It was then that I was alone with my thoughts...with that haunting quietness that reminded me my life was empty. I felt myself slipping into a deeper depression than before. I couldn't bear to be without them. 

"I decided it would take something drastic to snap me out of my despair. I programmed all of my memories--the things on Raphael's video tapes, the entries in the journals, tidbits of nostalgia that I'd kept with me--into your memory, Chet. And as I did so, I was determined to erase them from my own. I knew I had to bury them, deep in the recesses of my mind and lock them up, never allowing them to surface again. If I did, I would certainly go insane. I didn't want to think about what I might do if I allowed them to torture me for much longer. 

"It gave me peace of mind. I could now clear my head of all the haunting pictures of my brothers, while knowing that I would always have a place to turn if I ever felt the need to look back. I thought I had left it all behind me...that I was finally over what's in the past...until you brought them back to me. At first I thought it was a glitch in your programming, but now I realize that it's what I really needed. Now I can set things straight, say goodbye to them one last time." 

********

"As cloning technology became more common placed, and new advancements began to surface, I started my research on regeneration and mitosis. How I longed to be back in my normal body without all of the metal and gadgets. I think it was better for my mental health as well. I'd seen too many deaths while wearing that armor. I wanted to remember the good times, before I'd been transformed, when we were whole--a family. 

"As I've said, it was a grueling process, but one that I hoped would remedy my pain. With my physical transformation--the melding of my cells with theirs, I hoped my emotions and memories would be transformed as well. I was determined to put it behind me. My life was mine alone now. I would never go back. 

"So I buried the past. Every time a memory would begin to surface, I'd throw it back into the abyss from whence it came. I would concentrate on something else--my projects, my work, current events--_anything_ to make them go away and stop haunting me. Sometimes I saw them in my dreams, the four of us as children playing tag through the sewers. And Splinter was there, holding me in his lap with strong arms as he read me a story to chase away my nightmares. And there was April and Casey, the only two humans who had ever truly accepted us. I saw Shadow--playful, childlike eyes twinkling with mischief, hair hanging in golden curls down her back. I watched Mike read stories he'd written just for her, giving her rides on his back like a horse. 

"I saw Raphael when we were young, before the anger and self doubt. I saw him smile. I watched him cry. I heard him sing. And his laughter became infectious. 

"I felt Leonardo's doubt, the longing to please our master, to make him proud. I knew his insecurities. But he was happy inside--a sense of pride for his brothers, for himself. 

"I saw myself. And in my eyes, I saw hope for the future. For a life that was unknown to me at the time. I felt my own innocence, burning like the distant wick of a candle, so much promise, so much to discover. 

"I watched us grow. I felt our pains, our triumphs. I laughed when they laughed, cried when they cried. When I awoke, I felt nothing but despair. I had lost _so_ much. Yet, now I know that they can never truly leave me. They'll always be here in my heart." 

Donatello rose and walked to the window. How he enjoyed staring out at the world, looking at the colors of the newly blossomed flowers, studying the birds as they flew overhead, watching children play in the valley below. 

He gazed out at the distant hillside, at the tree that flourished there, lush and green. 

_It's time to go_, He decided. _Splinter's waiting._

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

  


  


_There's a hero  
If you look inside your heart  
You don't have to be afraid  
Of what you are  
There's an answer  
If you reach into you soul  
And the sorrow that you know  
Will melt away _

And then a hero comes along  
With the strength to carry on  
And you cast your fears aside  
And you know you can survive  
So when you feel like hope is gone  
Look inside you and be strong  
And you'll finally see the truth  
That a hero lies in you 

It's a long road  
When you face the world alone  
No one reaches out a hand  
For you to hold  
You can find love  
If you search within yourself  
And the emptiness you felt  
Will disappear... 

"Hero" - Mariah Carey 

  


  
_**The Right Meditation...**_  
Donatello pulled himself away from the window and took his coat from the hook, where he'd so carelessly thrown it in a crumpled heap just a few days previous. It had been cold that day, and one of his buyers had kept him out for three full hours, reworking price negotiations and discussing his various technical needs. By the time he had gotten home, he was exhausted. All he'd cared about at the moment was a nice hot bath and the warmth of his bed. In fact, the thought of soaking in a tub of warm, soothing water was a very welcomed one right about now. 

_No..._ he told himself. _Duty first._

He put on the jacket and grabbed a small, flat metal disk from the coffee table. He shoved it into his pocket as he made his way to the door. 

"I'll see you later, Chet. Maybe you can have some lunch waiting when I get ba--" 

Suddenly, an alarm was triggered. Red lights flashed throughout the house, bathing the interior a bright crimson. A high-pitched tone, not unlike that of a police car, blared over the delicate speakers. Don covered his ears. He remained alert, however, his eyes anxiously scanning for intruders. 

"Chet, what is it?" he called above the ruckus. 
    
    ^^YOU HAVE ONE NEW EMAIL. IT APPEARS THE ALERT MECHANISM HAS BEEN TURNED UP A BIT TOO HIGH^^

"Yeah..." Don mumbled. "That's an understatement." He'd only witnessed this particular alarm once, and that was when someone had tried to pry open the back window. A nice soft buzzer would have done the trick in this instance. He moved toward his desktop computer and sat down on the edge of the chair, calling out above the noise of the siren. "Can you turn it off now, please!?" 

In an instant, the red lights vanished. The tone stopped abruptly, bathing the room in silence. Donatello sighed in relief and turned his attention to the monitor. He swallowed hard as his hands nervously fumbled over the keyboard. 
    
    D-O-N-H-A-M-A-T-O

As he typed in his user name and password, the adrenaline began to rise. His heart began to pound in his temples, so hard, it made his head hurt. Cold sweat beaded up on the palms of his hands. This email could mean everything. It could provide the answers he so desperately sought. Or, it could lead to nothing but disappointment--more spam mail to add to his growing collection. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, attempting to mentally persuade the computer to do his bidding and provide him with what he wanted. 

As the program booted up, it seemed to take an eternity. Don drummed his fingers on the table top, not even daring to breathe as he watched the inbox begin to load. He scanned the screen excitedly, bringing his face close to study the contents. 

_Come on, come on, come on..._

He saw it. One new email, and it was sitting as plain as day at the bottom of the screen. 

  

    
    < Shadow W12:23 PM2K >

  
"Oh god..." He whispered. "God...let it be her..." 

He moved the mouse and clicked on the link to open it. The page began to load and he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening as he began to read. 
    
    Dearest Donatello,
    
     When I first received your letter, I could hardly  
     believe my eyes. I thought it was a prank. I couldn't  
     believe that you were still alive. I thought this   
     world had lost you all for good. But it makes   
     sense--Hamato Enterprises...it had to be you. I'm   
     so happy to hear from you, Don. It's been such a   
     very long time. We have a lot of catching up to do.   
     Yes, I would be overjoyed to come for a visit.   
     Thank you for the offer. I'm sure your nieces and   
     nephews and their children would love to meet you too.  
     I've told them so much about you. Of course, most   
     of them think I'm telling stories. Won't *they* be   
     surprised? ;-) 
    
     In case I haven't given it away yet, I'm married   
     to a wonderful man. His name is Andrew, and he's in   
     the computer business as well. He works for Compudor.  
     Perhaps you've heard of it? We have two children...  
     well, they're grown now, but my grandkids are still   
     very young. They remind me a lot of myself when I   
     was that age. Sometimes...they even remind me of   
     you and your brothers.
    
     In answer to your question, yes, Justin is alive and   
     well, and living in New York City as an artist. Mom   
     used to say he got that from Michaelangelo...but, I   
     dunno. He was so young when... Well, anyway, though   
     he wasn't much more than a baby when you left, he said   
     he does remember you. He's looking forward to seeing   
     you as well.
    
     God, Don, you don't know how I've missed you. I can't   
     wait to hear your voice and see your face again.   
     Anyway, I think I'm rambling now. Write me back soon  
     and let me know when you'd like me to come. I'm looking  
     forward to it.
    
     Yours,   
     Shadow Jones-Whitfield

  
He felt the sting of tears as they rolled down his cheeks, his heart nearly jumping into this throat. She was alive! And he'd found her at last! Suddenly, in the thirty seconds it had taken him to read the note, he realized he wasn't alone anymore. Shadow and Justin...both of them were alive. And god...did she say nieces and nephews? Grandkids? A husband? He could hardly believe that so much time had passed without ever hearing from her. Now, finally, he had a chance to fix things, to get to know her all over again, and possibly enjoy her family as well. 

He cracked his knuckles and laid shaky fingers over the keys. 
    
    Shadow,
    
     My deepest gratitude for your response. I have been  
     waiting my whole life, desperately searching for you   
     and your brother, for the peace of mind that the two   
     of you were okay. I can only apologize for all that's   
     happened in the past. I hope that we will be able to   
     put that behind us and look toward the future. Words   
     can not express how happy I am to hear that your life   
     is going well. I wish that I could have said the same   
     for myself, but I think that things are finally starting   
     to look up again.
    
     Send your brother and family my love. Tell them that   
     I can't wait to meet them. Expect an airline ticket   
     to arrive within the next few days. I believe it  
     would be best if our initial meeting was kept between  
     the two of us. There is no need to air old memories  
     with your family, and I don't want to spoil their   
     opinion of me with the tears I am bound to shed. I   
     really can't wait to see you again. Call me when   
     you get the chance, if even for a brief moment. I miss  
     your voice. See you soon!
    
     Warmest,  
     Donatello

  
He shut down the email and stared at the blank screen, a million thoughts racing through him at once. 

"She's alive..." he whispered. He laid his head on the desk and began to sob, but this time they weren't tears of sorrow and loneliness. They were tears of joy and hope. 
    
    ^^DONATELLO...IS EVERYTHING WELL...?^^

He looked up, not bothering to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. "Yes, Chet...it _will_ be again soon." 

********

The sky was clear and crisp. Cold, harsh winds blew, but were tamed slightly by the brightly shining sun. Don gripped the metal disk in his pocket, nervously rolling it around between his fingers. He paused and gazed up into the blue abyss to say a silent prayer before continuing his journey. As he walked, he ran his hand over the mechanism's smooth surface, locating the button with his thumb. As soon as it was pressed, his form began to waver and fade from view, to be replaced seconds later with a new one. 

The combination of short dark hair, beard stubble, and fair skin was a very familiar sight to his clients. But whenever he looked into the mirror at this holo-projected image of himself, it gave him the creeps. 

_Would I really look like this if I were human...?_

He kept walking, staring down at the bare human feet that were not his own, the way the blades of grass poked up between the five toes...so realistic. He raised his head, gazing out over the landscape, at the quickly approaching tree. A whole array of flowers greeted him at its base--red, yellow, green...the colors that reminded him of home. He stopped short, staring at it with apprehension, as if he was afraid to place himself among such beauty. 

_I don't want to be here...God...why am I doing this?_

He was frozen in place as the wind whipped the jacket about him. He shivered, breaking the trance, and glanced out over the hillside. It was late afternoon. It had taken him a while to calm down enough to venture out here after reading Shadow's email. 

_She's alive...thank God she's alive..._

The warmth of tears was a sharp contrast against his cool skin. He wiped at them quickly, but still more came. Whether they were due to happiness or sorrow or a little of both, he couldn't quite be certain. What he _did_ know was that now was not the time to ponder the reasons. He was here to see Splinter. 

Slowly, he made his way to the site he'd chosen as his master's burial ground. Although his body wasn't laid to rest here, the memory of him seemed to electrify in this place. As he neared the tree, his emotions and remembrances began to intensify, and it was a struggle to keep them in check. Finally, he was standing in the spot he'd abandoned well over a year ago. Slowly, he reached out a hand, running it along the trunk of the old tree. As he touched the living wood, pictures of his family flashed through his mind. He retracted his hand quickly and turned away. It was all so painful. So many sorrowful memories. 

He could hear his master's voice in his head, almost as if he was standing right there with him. _"Do not worry, Donatello...everything will be all right."_

He sighed, sucking in a ragged breath, and turned back toward the tree. The branches hung low, brushing the top of his head with their lush green leaves. He lowered to the ground carefully, being sure not to sit too closely to the patch of flowers. They made him nervous, although he couldn't explain why. 

His hands still in his pockets, he glanced all around him, looking for signs of people in the vicinity. Once satisfied that all was clear, he pressed the button on the disk and waited quietly as the magical disguise disappeared. 

Back in his turtle form once again, he closed his eyes. "Splinter..." His voice was soft and melancholy, his hands gripping the fabric of his jacket. "I'm so...sorry. I know I should have come earlier, but I--" He choked on the words, unable to voice them. 

"I wish you could hear me, Splinter. Maybe you can. I don't...I don't know. But if you're listening to me somehow, I want you to know that I have never forgotten about you, or the others. I've just...I've been having such a hard time..." 

He shifted his weight, feeling suddenly very uneasy out in the open air. A quick glance around confirmed that he was still alone. He stared down at the soft blades of grass, trying to regain his composure enough to speak. 

"Anyway, I think all of that is behind me now. I wanted to tell you...that I know what you meant now. I understand. And I think I've finally been able to forgive myself. It's taken me so long, Splinter, but I--" 

Again, that eerie feeling crept over him, and he stood, glancing around the hillside for hidden enemies. After several minutes, he realized that it was only his imagination playing tricks on him as it always did when he came here. There was something about this place that filled him with dread. He took a deep breath and cautiously sat beneath the tree again. 

"I have no regrets, Master Splinter. I realize that everything that has happened has happened for a reason. There's a greater purpose that I have yet to understand, but I know it's there. Please forgive me for doubting your teachings. 

"In this moment, I'm happier than I've been in a very long time. Shadow and Justin are alive. I'm going to see them soon! God, how I wish it was you and my brothers returning to me now, but I'm glad. It will be very good to see her again." 

He could hear the shakiness in his voice as he spoke, and realized he needed to relax. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, laying his hands over his knees as he struggled to find that safe place in the recesses of his mind. This exercise had always been harder for him than his brothers, but in time he'd learned to master it. Still, even now, it took much concentration and effort to reach that peaceful void of the subconscious. 

He felt his body slowly drift, that tingle of recognition in the back of his mind. Suddenly, he felt very light, very relaxed and calm. He began to drift, far away from his earthly body, but he wasn't afraid. He'd done this hundreds of times. It was almost like second nature now. 

As he floated in the realm of subconscious, he saw them--his brothers, his master, his old friends. They surrounded him with expressions of eagerness and love. Although they said nothing, he could sense their joy. He could feel the memories of past pain and anguish, and although it hurt him deeply, he also felt the present--the peace. He smiled despite himself, and reached for them, grabbing their hands, touching their arms, holding onto them as though they could disappear at any moment. 

He tried to speak, to tell them all what he was feeling, but he found he had no voice. He longed to ask them if they were all okay, where they were now, if they were happy. But there are some things that living beings aren't allowed to know, and so he never got his answers. Yet, that sense of peace remained. 

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back by an unseen force. He reached out for them, but they disappeared, leaving him alone in the swirling emptiness. His eyes flew open, and he found that he was sitting in front of the large tree trunk, in the same position he'd been in just moments before. He blinked a few times to regain his bearings, feeling that uneasiness return. It was then that he realized the images he'd seen in meditation were not actually his brothers, but representations of them that he'd conjured up in his own mind. Still, it was comforting to know that it was possible to enjoy the memory of their existence without the pain and anguish he'd grown so accustomed to. 

Something had reached out and brought him back from his meditation, but what was it? A long forgotten memory that refused to surface now? Maybe if he concentrated hard enough... 

"Donatello...?" 

He froze. It was all he could do. He felt a presence behind him, and _this_ time, it wasn't his imagination. 

_Dammit! If only I'd been more careful...if I'd trusted my instincts..._

How could he have let someone sneak up on him like that? He should have been able to sense it. But wait--something about the voice was familiar somehow. And they hadn't called him 'Don' or 'Mr. Hamato' as he'd instructed everyone to do. No, this was someone that knew his full name. 

He swallowed, quickly reached into his pocket to turn on the holographical device, but stopped himself. What was the use? It was obvious whoever this was had already seen him in his true form. Worse yet, this person had _recognized_ him that way. Feeling very threatened, he turned around slowly to face his pursuer, readying to defend himself if he had to. 

As he turned, their eyes met, dark, hopeful ones that penetrated into his. He stared at the cloaked figure before him, the wind whipping the long cape, threatening to pull back the hood that covered its head, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. 

He rose to his knees, an exhilarating rush of hope flooding through his entire body, yet still painfully obvious that his life might be in danger. His body struggled against him. He wanted to jump up, to discover immediately who or what was hiding beneath the confines of the cloak, but he knew it would be foolish to make any sudden moves. Perhaps he'd come across as threatening, and in the process, be attacked. 

Instead, he rose to his feet slowly, never once removing his sight from the stranger. Something in those eyes was painfully familiar. He knew this person somehow, he had to. There was darkness there, a sense of overwhelming sorrow and relief, a barrier that had been worn down with time and age. 

Donatello let out a gasp, the realization nearly knocking him to the ground. He stared at the figure, carefully moving closer, his legs trembling beneath him. Finally, he found his voice. It came as a whisper, filled with hope, awe, and overwhelming relief. 

_"Raphael...!?"_

He watched wide-eyed as the hands left the concealment of makeshift pockets, revealing green, scaly skin. They were shaking as they found the hem of the hood and pushed it back slowly, deliberately, revealing a green face that almost exactly matched his own. 

Oh, what a glorious sight! One of his brothers was alive! He was just as he remembered him too, if not a little worn around the edges. His eyes were softer, different, yet the same--cold fire burning within, yet mixed with a hint of gained wisdom and acceptance. Fine lines of age highlighted his eyes and forehead...and the patch which he now pulled down over one eye, confirming Donatello's suspicions. 

Tears began to flow like water. Don's head spun wildly, and he sucked in a breath, trying to maintain his balance. Was this really happening? Could it possibly be that Raphael was still alive, or was this just another cruel figment of his imagination? 

"My god..." He looked up into the face through blurry vision. "Raphael...is that really you?" 

The face did something he hadn't seen it do in many, many years. It smiled. 

"Please..." Donatello croaked. "Please tell me this isn't another dream, because I couldn't bear--" 

"It's me, Don." 

Donatello felt himself stagger, his knees giving way, and he started to fall. Suddenly, warm arms were around him, lifting him up. "It's me..." the voice whispered. "It's okay." 

Donatello slumped against his brother, strong arms--actual flesh and bone--gripping him firmly...so tight, he could hardly breathe. His breath came out in choked sobs, hands gripping fabric and carapace, desperate to reassure himself this was all real and tangible. In that one, single moment, all of his regrets, all of his anxieties, his anguish, his love, joy, intermingled, and as he gripped his brother, felt Raphael's tears, he let go of the past--let it slip through trembling fingers and be carried away by the wind. 

"You're alive!" he gasped between sobs. "I thought...I thought you were dead." 

Raphael's voice came as little more than a whisper, a voice overwhelmed with emotion. There was an element to it that Donatello had never heard in his brother before. "For a while there...so did I." 

  


* * *

  


### **CHAPTER TWELVE**

  


  


_As surely as the countdown begins our time is not our own  
already there's the breath of the wind which bleaches bare the bones  
of the deadlines we set, of the jokes we don't get  
and forgetfulness that furrows the brow...  
no I'll never find a better time  
to be alive than now. _

So I wake up, to remember the dream  
of personality and posture and face  
for nothing can remain as it seems  
in some perfect state of pure grace....  
all we prize and protect only cause and effect  
but I suspect the furrow may be guiding the plough  
and I'll never find a better time  
to be alive than now. 

No better, no worse, much the same,  
we wait on the why and the when;  
no question but we'll go as we came  
with no shift in the shape of the zen  
and it is as it is and we take as we find  
always next season's buds on the bough...  
but I'll never find a better time  
hard though it is to allow  
I'll never find a better time  
to be alive than now. 

This is the life and we've only time  
to be alive right now. 

"A Better Time" - Peter Hammil 

  


  
_**Enlightenment...**_  
"I don't believe it..." Donatello breathed. "I can't believe it's really you!" 

"Believe it." Raphael's voice was low, and so quiet it was as if it had been carried off by the wind. His hands were in his pockets, head forward, gazing out at the valley below. 

The sun had just begun to set. They stood together on the hillside, watching the sky turn from blue to purple to orange. And as the sun faded from view, it left in its wake a dark emptiness that was slowly stretching its way across the sky. Don glanced at his brother, still unable to shake that sense of dreaded deja vu that held him speechless. Still, inside, there was an electrified ball of energy just waiting to be set free. Raphael was alive! Joy, such as he'd never known in all his life filled him completely, and it was all he could do to simply contain it, to hold onto it without letting it overcome him completely. 

He glanced at Raphael, took note of how the yellow light from the setting sun highlighted the curves in his face, enhanced the deep gray of his eyes. The patch was long removed, shoved back into a pocket. Don could see the small marks of imperfection in the wounded eye--blood vessels and discoloration in the iris. It had never fully healed. He wondered how much his brother could see through that eye, if anything. Not that it mattered. They were Raphael's eyes, no doubt about that. And that realization confirmed that this really _was_ his brother standing here next to him. 

_Tangible...tangible and real..._

"What can you see?" 

"Hmmm?" Raphael turned toward him, a look of puzzlement on his face. "What do you mean?" 

"Your eye...you never had it repaired. Can you see out of it?" 

"Ehh...yeah, a little. I see shadows mostly, shapes and silhouettes of objects. Kinda hazy." 

"With today's technology, you could have that fixed in an instant. Why'd you decide not to have the surgery?" Donatello asked gently. He knew it was risky dealing with humans, but he also knew there were ways around their reptilian appearance. 

"I--" He turned away again. "I dunno. I guess...it all seemed too painful." 

Donatello had never known Raphael to cower from the idea of physical pain. "I've heard the procedure doesn't hurt--" 

"No, Donnie..." He turned to him again with a look of sorrow and regret. "I mean the memories...the thought of erasing it all. If I fixed this," he pointed to his left eye. "if I erased the scars...well, it would be like erasing that part of me, too--those things that made me who I am, ya know? I couldn't forget that. I couldn't--" 

Raphael choked on the words. Donatello could see the pain ignite in his brother's face, the way his eyes welled up with tears, how he bit his lip, trying to fight them back. 

"Raph, I'm sorry..." 

Donatello put an arm around his brother, pulling him close. Raphael allowed him to do so without even a flinch. Something about the scenario seemed so foreign to Donatello. This wasn't the angry, standoffish Raphael he'd known in their youth. Something had changed. 

"No, Don." Raphael pulled away and turned to face him. "I'm the one that should apologize. I put you through hell. I...I just couldn't let myself openly show my thoughts and feelings. I looked at you and Mike, saw the way you wore your hearts on your sleeves...I could never do that. I'm not like you, Don. I couldn't allow myself to be vulnerable, because I was afraid. I was afraid of getting too close. Afraid of rejection...a--afraid of...losing you." 

Donatello said nothing as he watched an array of emotions break out over Raphael's face. As he looked at him, it was as if he was seeing his brother for the very first time. 

"I couldn't allow myself to be loved. I couldn't get too close, because then...if I ever lost you....no, I had to be stronger than that. I had to keep my feelings hidden. That was the only way I could survive. And yet, I lost you anyway. Damn, Don, I was _so_ foolish..." 

Donatello stared at his brother in amazement. He'd never seen him open himself up like this, not to anyone. 

"God, Raph...I never realized..." 

"Of course you didn't." He smiled despite himself. "I hid it all from you, pretending I didn't care, and I was pretty damn good at it, wasn't I?" 

Donatello's mouth slowly curled up into a smile. "That you were, Raph. When times got tough, and everything seemed to crumble around us, that was the one thing I could always count on." 

Raphael's smile faded. "You know...I never really told you...what you guys meant to me." 

"Raph..." 

"No, I need to do this." He took a deep breath. "It's too late to make things right. I know that. But I feel as though I've been given one last chance, and I don't want to blow it this time. I can't afford to lose you, Don. I...I love you. Life has been hell without you guys." 

Don took Raph's hand in both of his. "I know, Raph. I always have." 

They stood there, just looking into one another's eyes. Slowly, the hurt began to fade. Understanding sparked between them, and then, moments later, they burst into laughter. 

Raphael pulled his hand away from Don's hastily. "Geeze, Donnie...you're my brother. And as much as I care about you, I just don't think it would work out--" 

"Shut up, Raph." Don laughed. 

For a few minutes, they forgot their troubles, all the past pain. Donatello allowed himself to enjoy the moment, to be happy. It felt so good to smile again. For a while, it was like old times--joking, laughing, embracing. But the moment faded quickly, and they were left with the burning questions--things they were afraid to voice, yet knew they must. 

"Raph..." Donatello said at last. "What do you see when you look at me?" 

He thought about that for a moment. "Well...if I cover my right eye..." he laid a hand over it. "I see a big green blob." He grinned, but the smirk quickly faded. "But I don't think that's what you mean." 

"No." Don said softly. 

Raphael took a deep breath. Don watched his brother eagerly as he eyed him, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He couldn't help but wonder if all that frowning was what caused the fine wrinkling around his eyes. 

"Look, you know I've never been good at this shit." 

"Yeah..." Don said quietly. "I know." 

Raphael returned his attention to the landscape, searching himself for answers that seemed so out of reach to him. 

"Don?" He asked at length. 

"Yeah?" 

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" 

"About what?" 

"When you were talking to Splinter. You said you finally learned to forgive yourself." 

Donatello stared at him in surprise. Just how long had he been watching him unawares? 

"I...yeah, I guess I did." 

"How?" 

"How?" 

"How do you do that? Forgive yourself, I mean." 

"I don't know, Raph...I guess you just have to search yourself, to come to grips with what you've done that you can't--" 

"I've done so much, Donatello." Raphael blurted suddenly. "I've killed people, I've pushed people I cared about away...I hurt you..." 

"Raph..." 

"I'm worse than a murderer. At least their victims don't have to suffer the emotional crap I put you all through. If hell exists, that's where I belong." 

"Don't say things like that, Raph." 

"It's true, Don! Look at what I've done, the kind of life I led. Leo offed himself because of me--" 

Donatello closed his eyes. "Please don't say that, Raph. Please..." 

"It's the truth." 

"You can't know that. We can't know for sure that he isn't alive somewhere..." He knew from Chet's replays that this was most likely not true, but he was desperate for an answer to soothe his brother's grief. 

"No, Don. He's dead. You know it, I can see it in your eyes. And I know it too. All this time, Don, I could _feel_ you. I knew that I would find you somewhere if I just looked hard enough. But Leo...he's gone. He's--there's no trace of him. I don't _feel_ him. He's never coming back. I can sense it in here." He pounded his chest with his fist, his expression growing even more solemn. "And Mike...poor Mikey. I--god, Don..." 

Raphael broke into sobs, his knees giving way beneath him. Donatello latched onto him quickly, trying to keep him steady. Slowly, he lowered him to the grass, his own eyes filling with tears at the memory of their brothers. For a long while, they just sat there, engorged in sorrow, until one of them found the voice to speak at last. 

"Raphael? Do you want to know what I see when I look at _you_?" 

The turtle didn't answer. 

"I see myself." 

Raphael turned to him, a look of confusion on his face. "How could you possibly--" 

"It's true. You and I...all of us...we were more alike than we ever realized. I was just as frightened as you were, Raph. Everyone looked to me for answers I simply couldn't give. And what if I messed up? What if I let everyone down? No...forget that...I _did_ let everyone down." 

"No, Don..." 

"I couldn't stop it. I couldn't change what was happening. Still, _I_ lived. And it didn't seem right. It wasn't _fair_." He didn't bother to stave off the flow of tears that were streaming down his cheeks. 

"But Don, don't you see? You're blaming yourself for things that were _my_ fault. I'm to blame for your self-torture too..." 

Donatello shook his head. "No, Raph. It isn't like that. See, I've learned to forgive myself, just as I've learned to forgive all of you. We were all to blame to some degree, and yet none of us were. We were only reacting to the cards we'd been dealt. Some of us responded rather irrationally, yes, but how could you have known at the time where your actions would lead? You said yourself that you were trying to protect us...yourself. I can't blame you for that." 

"But, Don, I--" 

"No, Raph." Donatello grabbed him by the shoulders and looked at him forcefully. "You can't carry everything on your own shoulders. We all had a hand in the future. You have to accept that. You have to realize that you can't change things. You couldn't if you tried. What's done is done. And now we have to move forward. It's the only thing we can do." 

Raphael was crying again. 

********

The sun continued to set over the hillside, and they sat there in silence, gazing out over the landscape. It looked beautiful this time of day, a high contrast of light and dark shadowing the distant houses and treetops far below. 

"Raph?" Donatello asked quietly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Tell me what you've been doing with yourself all these years." 

The slightest hint of a smile appeared at the corners of Raphael's mouth. "You sure you wanna know?" 

Donatello nodded. "Of course." 

"Well, my life hasn't been nearly as exciting as yours, I'd imagine. Moved out to the Bayou. Been spending most of my time there, living in a little shack in the swamp. I hunt my food--rabbits and gators mostly. Nothing fancy, but it's pretty secluded. I live off the land. And it's beautiful, Don. Being out there among nature has given me a lot of time to think...about my family, myself...life in general. 

"Every time I stare into the water, the reflection of myself reminds me of everything I've done that I wish I could take back." 

"Raph..." 

"No, it's okay, Don. Because, now I understand why I did what I did...why we _all_ did what we did. We were a family, Don, and no matter how crazy of a family that was, we really did love each other." 

Don smiled gently. "Yeah, yeah, we did." 

"For _years_, I tried to put the blame on Leo. He always was my scapegoat, ya know. 'If Leo had never started that fight...', 'If only Leo hadn't tried to kill me...', 'If only Leo could have stayed out of my business...' But it wasn't him. It was me. _I_ was the one in charge of _my_ life. And just as I tried to protect myself from the pain, he was trying to shield himself from seeing me ruin everything we held dear. I didn't realize how much he cared about me. He was doing the only thing he figured he could. It was just...his way." 

Donatello nodded. "We were all so different...yet, I've never known any four people who were so much the same." 

Raphael smiled, some of the pain slowly slipping from his features. "Good ol' Donnie...forever the analyst." 

"Yeah, well, good thing too, otherwise I wouldn't be where I am today." 

"I meant to ask you about your business. Hamato Enterprises, right?" 

Donatello nodded. "It's not that big of a deal really..." 

"Not that big of a deal?" Raphael stared at him in amazement. "Don, I've spent my life as a bum in the swamp for the past thirty-five years, and even _I've_ heard of Hamato Enterprises! Geeze...your products are _everywhere_!" 

Don blushed a little. "Yeah, well...I simply utilized what technology was available to me--" 

Raphael shook his head. "You never cease to amaze me, Don. You know, I always knew you'd be successful. Nerd jokes aside, you were the one I knew would make something of himself." 

"Thanks, Raph. That really means...well, a lot." 

"Hey, it's the truth. So, what is this A. I. home computer system thingy I keep hearing about?" 

"Oh, you mean Chet?" 

"It has a name? Boy, Don, you really _have_ been lonely, haven't ya?" 

"Chet stands for 'Computer Home Enhancement Technology'. It's my greatest invention to date. See, it utilizes voice-commands, and administers them via the unmitigated memory system. All of the conventional domestic utilities are uploaded into--" 

"Don..." 

"--the mainframe and accessed globally to ensure that--" 

"_Don!_" 

He paused and looked at Raphael. 

"In English, Donnie, okay?" 

"Oh...heh...sorry...well, basically, all of your normal, run-of-the-mill household functions are pre-programmed into a central computer memory system. Each unit works on voice command, and will perform any basic command you give it. If something goes wrong, the central memory system in my own A.I. unit--that's Artificial Intelligence, by the way--will sense it and alert me of the problem immediately. That way, down time for the customer is minimal, and almost non-existent." 

"Sounds like a big project." 

"Yeah, it was, but one that has really profited for me. Chet's like my offspring--my baby. You want to see it?" 

Raphael smirked at him and crossed his arms. 

"What?" Don asked innocently. 

The smirk evolved into a smile. "Never mind. Lead the way." 

********

The sun continued its decent on the western horizon and faded behind the distant hills, bathing the land in darkness. Raphael paused and gazed up at the stars, just as he'd been doing every night for the past thirty years. 

Realizing his brother was no longer following him, Donatello paused and turned around, looking on in silence as a smile slowly came to Raphael's face. 

"Look at the stars." He smiled. "Aren't they beautiful, Don?" 

Donatello approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, they are." He said softly. "Every night, I look up at them from my window and think of our brothers." 

Raphael wrapped an arm loosely around the back of his brother's neck and returned his gaze skyward. Donatello did the same, staring at the little pinpoints of light that stretched before him like paint on a blackened canvass. The night was exceptionally clear, and he could see the temperamental Scorpio, the innocent Pegasus, Sagittarius the teacher, and among them, perhaps shining more brightly than any other cluster of stars, was their leader, the great Orion. 

  


  


_As I stand on the hillside  
Looking up at the stars  
I feel the piercing burn of loneliness inside  
In the past, I clawed towards doom  
With determination in my eyes  
But you were there with me _

Now you are gone  
It's impossible to continue this lonely existence  
How will I go on?  
Will we meet again tomorrow?  
Or will it be a millennia later?  
Will we be the same? 

Last chances come but only once  
And Time has torn us apart  
I look to the past  
But all I see are our shattered dreams  
And the lost hopes  
Of our youth 

I burn with the memories of our farewell  
And as I look up at the stars  
I wonder if you are there  
The wind tears away the darkness  
It's my turn now  
And I open the door as the morning begins 

I was afraid then  
But I broke my sorrow with a hopeful smile  
For you are there waiting for me  
And reaching out with an angel's wing  
My heart was broken when you left me  
But I have learned to forgive 

I understand why things have happened now  
I am not alone  
I was never truly alone  
You have always been there at my side  
And my soul is finally at peace  
For I have finally reached 

Nirvana 

"Haramitsu(Entrance into Nirvana)" - TurtleNinja 

  


  


  


### **THE END**

  


  


  
_* Leonardo's dialogue and the events depicted in the Turtle's first battle were taken from Mirage Studios, and the first issue of "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. TMNT #1 and all characters depicted are (c) of Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, 1984. The dialogue between the characters and most of the events depicted in the "wrench" scene and the Raph/Leo fight scene were taken from Mirage Studios' "Raphael Special #1" and the "Return to New York" series, respectively. Flashback dialogue between Donatello and Raphael, and Leonardo and Raphael in the Lucindra scenes was taken from Mirage's Issue #44, written by Rick Arthur, and the brief recap told by Donatello was created by events that were also taken from that issue. Raphael's first meeting with Lucindra and the aftermath of her leaving the lair are solely my ideas, and I do not claim that either of these scenes were intended or thought up by Rick Arthur. The events retold about Casey's murder of the kid and his log battle with Donatello were taken from Mirage comics #48 and 49. The flashback conversations in the watertower, the discussion about allying with the Foot, and the dialogue with Karai, as well as the recap of Don killing the Elite soldier and the part of the water scene where the turtles said 'hello' to April were all taken from Mirage's "City at War" series. The ideas for Leo's lost hand were taken from a similar plot in the Image comics. The story based around that loss, including Don's meditative flash back, the new cybernetic hand, and his mitosis research and skin grafts are all my own ideas (with a little help from GW-thanks GW!). Don's recap of the battle between Raph and Pimiko at his headquarters was taken from the events in the Image comics. _

The rest of the dialogue, action and plot, along with the ideas for this story were created by and are copyright of Dawn M. Coll, 1999. 

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, above mentioned comics, and all characters depicted are (c) of Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, 1984. Lucindra is (c) of Rick Arthur.


End file.
